I heard recently about a man who prided himself on being exceedingly punctual. He followed a very precise routine every morning. His alarm went off at 6:30. He rose briskly, shaved, showered, ate his breakfast, brushed his teeth, picked up his briefcase, got into his car, drove to the nearby ferry landing, parked his car, rode the ferry across to the downtown business area, got off the ferry, walked smartly to his building, marched to the elevator, rode to the seventeenth floor, hung up his coat, opened his briefcase, spread his papers out on his desk, and sat down in his chair at precisely 8:00. Not8:01, not even 7:59. Always at 8:00 A.M. He followed this same routine without variation for eight years.

Until one morning his alarm did not go off and he slept fifteen minutes late. When he did awake, he was panic-stricken. He rushed through his shower, nicked himself when he shaved, gulped down his breakfast, only halfway brushed his teeth, grabbed up his briefcase, jumped into his car, sped to the ferry landing, jumped out of his car, and looked for the ferry. There it was, out in the water a few feet from the dock. He said to himself, “I think I can make it," and he ran down the dock toward the ferry at full speed. Reaching the edge of the pier he gave an enormous leap out over the water and miraculously landed with a loud thud on the deck of the ferry.

The captain rushed down to make sure he was all right and said, "Man, that was a tremendous leap, but if you would have just waited another minute, we would have reached the dock, and you could have walked on."

In all innocence, children have for centuries sung a nursery rhyme that is in truth anything but an innocent verse:

Ring-a-ring o’roses,
A pocket full of posies,
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down!

The rhyme arose about 1665 in the streets of London during a plague epidemic of the Black Death. Each phrase of the rhyme refers to an aspect of the plague.

“Ring o’roses” is a reference to the small, red rashlike areas that developed on people infected with the plague.

“Pocket full of posies” is a reference to the ancient belief that evil smells were the poisonous breath of demons who afflicted people with the disease. It was thought that sweet-smelling herbs and flowers would drive them off.

“A-tishoo! A-tishoo!” is a reference to the sneezing that was a symptom of the plague.

“We all fall down!” is a reference to death.

Thus, a common children’s rhyme is in fact a sinister parody of one of the most dreaded plagues ever to strike—the Black Death.

The same loss of context and therefore of meaning can affect those who study the Scriptures. And that is why when we seek to interpret the word of God, we do so in part by studying its historical, grammatical context.

On the Day of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit fell upon the waiting disciples, there were a number of extraordinary events occurring: there was the sound of a rushing wind, cloven tongues of fire appeared, and they all began to speak in other languages and the Holy Spirit gave them ability. The Jews who were visiting Jerusalem, from all nations, hearing them speak in their own tongues, were amazed at this startling phenomenon. They came to the hasty, false conclusion that the disciples must be drunk, and accused them, saying, "They have had too much wine!" "Not so!" said Peter. "It is only nine in the morning -- far too early to be fixed. They are not drunk, but rather filled with the new wine of the Spirit. This is what Joel the prophet foretold many years ago."

In other words, the Holy Spirit is New Wine and it cannot make you drunk. The Spirit will not cloud your mind, it won't cause you to talk stupidly, it won't make you an unsafe driver, and it won't give you a hangover. The disciples were not inebriated, but rather filled with God the Holy Spirit. They had not imbibed on the fruit of the vine, nor had they drunk the nectar of the gods, but they had been filled with the Divine Nectar, the New Wine from heaven. This Spirit will be a wine for all occasions, for all people.

Before his Ascension, Jesus had wanted his followers to know that the same Lord who had called them and ministered to them in his physical presence would now, through the Holy Spirit, always be with them. They must realize that the crucified, resurrected, and now ascended Lord would return. The same Spirit which dwelt in him would now dwell in them.

On this anniversary of the Day of Pentecost, when the Christian Church was born, let us be deeply grateful that the Spirit of Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit, has come to us. Without the Holy Spirit, Christian discipleship would be impossible. We would have no understanding of spiritual things without the Spirit of Truth. We would never enjoy Christian fellowship with one another without the unity of the Spirit. We could never be effective Christian witnesses without the Spirit's power. In fact, we would have no life without the life-giving Spirit. Just as the body without breath is a corpse, so a church without the Holy Spirit is dead!

The rest of the sermon follows this outline:

1. They Waited And Prayed
2. The Specifics Of The Spirit's Coming
3. This New Wine Makes A Difference

I believe that most of us are experiencing the crunch - the crunch of living - of doing business on the planet called Earth. The simple life has somehow eluded our grasp - even things that we could once take for granted like enough gas for our cars, sufficient oil for our homes, uninterrupted education for our children, and the prospect for a raise that would provide us a little higher standard of living - these things are no longer commonplace.

Often we are tempted to ask the question, "Where is God in this whole mess of living?" And the answer, I believe, is that God is the still point in a turning, increasingly chaotic world. God can still bring calm to chaos; he is still a source of hope in the face of despair; with him we can even snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Yes, God is the still point in a turning world.

The psalmist knew that, for the world of chaos was turning even in his day. He said it this way, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult." God is the only answer to chaos, for he is our refuge and strength. From him alone we can receive strength to go on. He is the source from which we must draw the power to overcome. There is no situation that can be deemed impossible, a lost cause, or insolvable as long as we continue to entreat the help of the Almighty. "We shall not fear," the psalmist says, even if our whole world is blowing up around us, for the Lord is still with us; he has not abandoned us.

"Be still, and know that I am God," the psalmist continues. Oil isn’t God. Cancer isn’t God. Money isn’t God. Yahweh, the God of Jacob, is God. He is still present, he has not abandoned the world. He is the author of life and love, so he doesn’t send cancer, sickness, or death. He doesn’t place greed and anger in the hearts of people; chaos and grief are not from him. He is the still point in the turning world; his love is constant - it doesn’t change.

Only the fool says in his heart there is no God. Only the fool tries to go the world alone. Martin Luther looked at all the pressures of his life one day and said, "I have so much to do today, that there will be no chance of getting it all done unless I spend at least four hours in prayer."

If your life is crowded, if grief or worry is consuming too much of your world, return to the still point and seek refuge in God. Receive renewed strength from the God of our fathers who spared not even his only Son so that we could not only have victory after death but also victory in life. Be still, and know that God is still God.

Martin Luther, believed in demons but he believed in God more. In that great Hymn "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" he writes:

And though this world, with devils filled,
should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed
His truth to triumph through us:

The Prince of Darkness grim,
we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.

That hymn, first published in 1529, has been called "the greatest hymn of the greatest man of the greatest period of German history." It has also been dubbed the "Battle Hymn of the Reformation" and with good reason. The Reformation touched off one of the most influential movements in world history. But before this famous Battle Hymn could be written Luther had to battle his personal demons and exorcize them from his own life. Luther felt utterly worthless and incapable of carrying the burdens of priesthood. On occasion Luther even flogged himself in an attempt to keep himself from sin.

He was often, he felt, pursued and tormented by Satan and his cohorts. Until one day, while reading Paul's letter to the Romans, he suddenly understood the meaning of God's grace and how it is appropriated by faith. In that moment he came to understand that he was justified before God through faith and not by his works.

You might say that after this experience Luther was no longer possessed by his demons, he was sitting upright, dressed, and in his right mind.

This is actually a pretty new festival in the church year. Its roots go back only to the early 1900's, when the world's great empires British, American, Spanish, French, German, Russian, Japanese were all at war or about to go to war somewhere.

The man who was the pope of the Roman Catholic Church at the time wrote a letter in which he dedicated the world to Christ the King. In the letter, he reminded the empires that God is present with the whole human race, even with those who do not know God.

After World War I, Pope Pius XI designated the last Sunday in October as Christ the King Sunday, a day to remember that Christ received power and honor from God and was thereby made ruler of the universe. Christ the King Sunday is the last Sunday of the church year for good reason. It's a time to reflect on Christ's return at the end of time to rule over all creation, a theme which echoes throughout Revelation, the last book of the Bible. But here's the powerful thing about this celebration. Pope Pius created the day because of the encroachment of secular forces upon society. Something he called anticlericalism. 

In 1925 Pope Pius XI wrote the following:

If We ordain that the whole Catholic world shall revere Christ as King, We shall minister to the need of the present day, and at the same time provide an excellent remedy for the plague which now infects society. We refer to the plague of anticlericalism, its errors and impious activities.

With the term “anticlericalism,” Pius XI sums up the multifaceted war waged against Christianity by modern revolutions, characterized by a ferocious and indeed demonic hatred of the church, clergy, celibacy, religious life, communion, crucifixes, church buildings, parochial schools, the cross and Gospel, and anything that belonged to or bore the mark of the Church. “Anticlericalism” is a fitting term for all this.

It was an ideological war whose roots were only beginning to grow, and after decades of deep roots, has only now blossomed in our generation.

Pius XI continues:

This evil spirit, as you are well aware, venerable brethren, has not come into being in one day; it has long lurked beneath the surface. The empire of Christ over all nations was rejected. The right which the Church has from Christ himself, to teach mankind, to make laws, to govern peoples in all that pertains to their eternal salvation—that right was denied. Then gradually the religion of Christ came to be likened to false religions and to be placed ignominiously on the same level with them. It was then put under the power of the State and tolerated more or less at the whim of princes and rulers. Some men went even further, and wished to set up in the place of God’s religion a natural religion consisting in some instinctive affection of the heart. There were even some nations who thought they could dispense with God, and that their religion should consist in impiety and the neglect of God.

The rebellion of individuals and states against the authority of Christ has produced deplorable consequences. We lamented these in the encyclical Ubi Arcano; we lament them today: the seeds of discord sown far and wide; those bitter enmities and rivalries between nations, which still hinder so much the cause of peace; that insatiable greed which is so often hidden under a pretense of public spirit and patriotism, and gives rise to so many private quarrels; a blind and immoderate selfishness, making men seek nothing but their own comfort and advantage, and measure everything by these; no peace in the home, because men have forgotten or neglect their duty; the unity and stability of the family undermined; society, in a word, shaken to its foundations and on the way to ruin.

"Made in America?" Joe Smith starts the day early, having set his alarm clock (made in China), for 6:00 A.M. While his coffee pot (made in China), is perking, he puts his blow dryer (made in Taiwan) to work and shaves with his electric razor (made in China). He puts on a dress shirt (made in Taiwan), his designer jeans (made in Singapore), and a pair of tennis shoes (made in Korea). After cooking up some breakfast in his new electric skillet (made in Philippines), he sits down to figure out on his calculator (made in Mexico), how much he can spend today. After setting his watch (made in Switzerland), to the radio (made in China), he goes out, gets in his car (made in Germany), goes looking as he has been for months, for a good paying American job. At the end of another discouraging and fruitless day, Joe decides to relax for a while. He puts on a pair of sandals (made in China), pours himself a glass of wine (made in France), and turns on his TV (made in Japan), and ponders again why he can't find a good paying American job.

George Orwell wrote in Time and Tide, 6 April 1940: "Reading Mr. Malcolm Muggeridge's brilliant and depressing book, The Thirties, I thought of a rather cruel trick I once played on a wasp. He was sucking jam on my plate, and I cut him in half. He paid no attention, merely went on with his meal, while a tiny stream of jam trickled out of his severed esophagus. Only when he tried to fly away did he grasp the dreadful thing that had happened to him. It is the same with modern man. The thing that has been cut away is his soul, and there was a period - twenty years, perhaps - during which he did not notice it."

It seems that Pilate cannot grasp the dreadful thing that is happening around him. Neither can the Jews. He asks, "What is truth?" Indeed, is it so hard to discern truth when you are putting to death an innocent man and letting a murderer go free?

According to John Silling, a Purdue University entomologist, the ant is an exemplary worker. “Basically the ant’s entire life, which can range up to seven years, is spent working,” says Silling. “They gather food, bring it back to the nest, and use it for day-to-day meals as well as to store for the winter.”

In addition, the amazing insects can be adept horticulturalists, states the professor. Some species “gather bits of grass or leaves and take them back to their nest. On this organic matter, which is used much like fertilizer, they place tiny mushroom spores and grow them for food.” But ants as dairy-keepers? That’s right. “Some ants get the majority of their food by ‘milking’ aphids or plant lice which are often known as ‘ant cows,’ says the scientist. “The ants sometimes herd the aphids down into the ant nests at night or when it starts to get cool; then when it gets warm again, they herd them back up to the plants.”

Christian thinking about salvation has divided itself into two main streams which I like to think of as: "Monkey-hold" salvation or "Cat-hold" salvation. The difference in theological viewpoint is seen in how monkeys and cats protect their young. A mother monkey will sound the alarm when danger lurks. The baby monkeys come running to her and hold tightly to her fur as she runs to safety. A mother cat, on the other hand, picks her kittens up by the nape of the neck and carries them in her mouth out of harm's way. So, which is it? Monkey-hold salvation or Cat-hold salvation? Does God sound the alarm in Jesus leaving us to come running and hold on tightly, or does Christ take us by the nape of the neck and carry us to the throne of grace?

At least in Jesus' parables it appears to be a Cat-hold salvation. Jesus pictures God as a shepherd who seeks out a lost lamb and carries it home on his shoulders. Or a homemaker who searches every corner of the house for a lost coin until she finds it and rejoices with her friends. Our salvation rests in the care and keeping of a seeking Savior. The message is simple and clear: We do not have to worry about holding on to God's coat tails for God will not let go of ours.

The following story could be used as a basis to point out some of the plights we need to be delivered from.

In one story of the Holy Grail, a knight rode forth in searth of fulfillment. He came to a singing brook, deep meadows, trees plentiful with fruit. But even as he ate the fruit, it turned to dust. No feeding of the flesh could satisfy his deepest hunger.

Further on he saw a home, a lovely woman standing in its open door, her eyes innocent and kind and all her bearing gracious, and he thought that surely the love of a woman and the shelter of a home would be his answer; but she, too, fell into dust at his touch and the home crumbled into a broken shed.

Later in his journey, the knight came to a warrior clad in golden armor; but the warrior, too, turned into dust, for the deepest meaning of life is not in the pride of battle. And still later he saw a city on the hill, at its gates a great throng shouting his praises as he climbed the slope, so that he felt that surely civic honor and the esteem of others would be his deepest need, but the city and its people were gone when he reached the crest of the hill. So he cried out, in Tennyson’s words, "Lo, if I find the Holy Grail itself and touch it, it will crumble into dust!"

A concluding point could be made that God’s triumphant grace offers us deliverance from the disappointments that always follow when we look for salvation in the contemporary equivalents of the points made above, as surely we do.

My favorite story about Marcus Aurelius comes at the depths of the Antonine Plague, which is a horrible pandemic that kills millions of people. Rome’s economy has been devastated. People are dying in the streets, and everyone feels like it can’t possibly get better. And what does Marcus Aurelius do? He walks through the imperial palace and begins to mark things for sale. For two months he sells on the lawn of the Great Emperor’s Palace, the jewels and robes and couches, the fineries owned by the emperor. He’s sending a message. He says, I’m not going to put myself first. I don’t need these fancy things, not when people are struggling. He says, I’m gonna do the little things that make a difference. To me this is like the CEO who takes a pay cut in a bad economy; this is the athlete who renegotiates their contract so the team can bring on new people; this is the leader who sacrifices and struggles, who puts the people first not their own comfort and needs. That’s what greatness is like.

Exodus 30:12 - "When you take the census of the people of Israel, then shall each give a ransom for himself to the Lord when you number them, that there be no plague among them when you number them."

Numbers 1:1 - "Take a census of all the congregation of the people of Israel, by families, by fathers’ houses, according to the number of names, every male, head by head;"

I’m sure we all remember the great census of 1970, which our government claimed would be the most comprehensive ever undertaken in this country, and which included items of information about which we had never before been asked. Certainly, these items of information could be recognized as being very important in determining living standards, educational backgrounds, and many other facts about American citizens which the government needs to know to enable us to live "the good life."

At the lime, we also heard much about the extra time that was being put in by census takers and other employees of the Bureau of Statistics, and, cynics that most of us are, perhaps we said, with a shrug, "Well, that’s tough. So they’re collecting overtime, aren’t they!" But, still, not being averse to doing the same thing ourselves whenever possible, we were tolerant about the whole thing. Certainly, the public response to the census was gratifying. Very few actively objected, and the great majority submitted their questionnaires on time. Would you be surprised, then, to learn that, until recently, there was a strict taboo against census-taking?

Although the taking of a census - not only of people, but also of all the kinds of properties - is an ancient custom, dating back to the third millenium B.C. in Babylonia and Egypt, and, as our texts show, was not unknown in Israel, still this taboo existed.

The prevailing theory among scholars is that this taboo was imposed because the taking of a census (head-counting) is a presumptuous usurpation of God’s rights: only God knows who is to live or to die, and by assigning a military rating to a man (the original purpose of the census), this pre-knowledge of man’s fate can be somewhat assumed. So, we as often find when God is crossed, terrible consequences were thought to follow the taking of such a census. Joab tried very hard to deflect David from this undertaking, but was unsuccessful, and, as a result, the plague broke out.

To avoid this punishment, finally a new system was inaugurated: a half shekel was collected from each person. These were then counted, and thus the number of people was known. Bureaucratic maneuvering is hardly an accomplishment of the twentieth century! The system that we have today takes its name from the Roman system, in which the members of families were enumerated every five years for the purpose of determining their civil status and corresponding liabilities. But even the Romans concluded these census takings with a cleansing ceremony.

We are, of course, familiar with two very important Roman censuses: the first was the one ordered by Quirinus in 6-7 B.C., in Palestine, which aroused a revolt of the people, and, of course, the one ordered by Augustus that brought Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem, and so ushered in the Christian era.

However, after the downfall of the Roman Empire, census taking also declined. Superstition probably had a great deal to do with this. Undoubtedly the Christian Church remembered the punishment of Israel, and so, aside from two very notable endeavors - Charlemagne’s Breviary and the English Domesday Book which followed the Norman invasion - there was no systematic census taking until the mid-l7th century.

This was done in Quebec, although, as late as 1753, in the British House of Commons, the proposal that a general census be conducted was turned down because of a fear that a numbering of the people would be followed by "some great public misfortune or epidemical distemper." Great Britain did not have its first census until 1801.

No doubt there was a great deal of the unspoken objection to being placed on a list to be declared eligible for military service, or the payment of taxes, but, nevertheless, the primitive fear of the taboo is still buried deep within us, and it sometimes can surface without our tacitly acknowledging it. But - next time the census taker comes around, be cooperative! Our legal and monumental judicial and administrative system could no longer function without list after list after - ad infinitum! And the only curse that we can expect is that of increased taxes!

Jeremiah 9:54 - "Then he called hastily to the young man his armorbearer, and said to him, ‘Draw your sword and kill me, lest men say of me, "A woman killed him." ’ And his young man thrust him through, and he died."

1 Samuel 14:7 - "And his armor-bearer said to him, ‘Do all that your mind inclines to; behold, I am with you; as is your mind, so is mine.’ "

2 Samuel 23:37 - "Zelek the Ammonite, Naharai of Beeroth, the armor-bearer of Joab the son of Zeruiah."

1 Chronicles 10:4 - "Then Saul said to his armor-bearer, ‘Draw your sword and thrust me through with it, lest these uncircumcised come and make sport of me.’ But his armor-bearer would not; for he feared greatly. Therefore Saul took his own sword, and fell upon it."

The armor-bearer in early times was the personal attendant of a warrior chieftain, just as today the aide-de-camp is an officer who is attached to the person of a general to assist him in his duties, transmit orders, and collect information. The armor-bearer of the Old Testament, however, had additional duties, rather more similar to those of an officer’s aid today, which including caring for his master’s weapons and other equipment. He also carried his master’s weapons and other equipment. He also carried his master’s weapons and fought along side him in battle.

Strangely enough, the armor-bearer is referred to only in early Old Testament times, as a servant of Abimelech, Jonathan, Saul, and J oab. As we can see by reading the material which includes our texts, both Abimelech and Saul ordered their armor-bearers to kill them so that they would not be captured by the enemy.

In the account in 1 Samuel, Jonathan’s armor-bearer is said to have killed those who had been bested by Jonathan. David himself served for a time as the armor-bearer of King Saul.

And how were these armor-bearers chosen? If we let our minds wander back to the period of chivalry, during the Middle Ages, we can recall the standards upon which selection for such high honor was based. This probably wasn’t so involved in the times of which we are speaking. Most likely the merits upon which the armor-bearer was chosen were bravery, loyalty, and skill in warfare.

We find this picked out for us by the third of our biblical texts. Joab’s armor-bearer, Haharai of Beeroth, was himself a mighty warrior, being one of the "Mighty Men" of David (cf. 2 Samuel 23:37; 1 Chronicles 11:39).

We see, then, that these men were heroes in their own right. And I think there is one further point that we should make. They were not only servants of their masters, but also personal friends as well. It may seem to us that a friend would never deliberately kill another, but if we consider the alternatives that were offered; if the enemy captured the master, I would say that friendship demanded the ultimate act. And so they reacted!

Have you ever sat in a lighted room at night, reading or talking, and suddenly the lights go out? What's the first thing you say? Usually everyone says, "Who turned out the light?"

In this age of electricity, light is something we take for granted. Few of us ever experience total darkness. In the city, we have street lights which come on automatically as soon as it begins to get dark. In the country, most farms have a mercury vapor light that stays on all night for security reasons. Consequently, most of us never get a good look at the stars as we used to when all the lights went out at night.

If you ever get the chance to go out in the desert at night do it. The darkness on nights with no moon or star light is so total someone could be standing right next to you and you wouldn't know it.

This text from John's gospel is about darkness and light: "And this is the judgment," John says, "that the light has come into the world and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil."

"One night at the end of a special Saturday night worship service," writes Warren Hudson of Ontario, Canada," a thunderstorm unleashed a bolt of lightning that plunged the church into darkness." With the congregation seated in total darkness, the pastor felt his way to the kitchen to find some candles. The pastor handed out the candles to everyone present. Persons lit their candles in much the same way as many churches do on Christmas Eve, each person lighting the candle of the person next to them. The worshipers then made their way through the church's winding hallways to the front door.

"Peering out, we could see the rain coming down in sheets," Warren remembers. With traffic snarled, people were running for the nearest shelter. Looking around they realized that the entire city was in darkness. "There in the darkness we stood," Warren writes, "a little band of Christians, each clutching a light, not sure whether to venture out into the storm or stay inside the church in hopes that the storm would soon blow over."

There in the darkness the light of truth struck him. In this most dramatic way he realized what it means to be the "light of the world." He writes, "It occurred to me then that this is the temptation I face every day. It is easy to play it safe and be a good Christian in church. It is a lot harder to venture out in faith into the storms of the world."

One night at a circus the tent was packed with thousands of people. It was time for the tiger trainer to come out and perform. He bowed to the audience then went inside the cage. A hush drifted over the audience as the door was locked behind him. The trainer skillfully put the tigers through their paces. Suddenly there was a huge pop, followed by a complete blackout of power. For several long minutes the trainer was trapped in the cage with the tigers in total darkness. The trainer knew the tigers could see him with their powerful vision, but he could not see them. All he had was a whip and small chair as a means of protection.

Finally, the lights came back on, and the trainer finished his performance. Everyone was amazed that he wasn't attacked and feared for him in the darkness. After his performance the trainer was interviewed by a local television reporter. He admitted how scared he was. But during the blackout he realized that the tigers did not know that he could not see them. He just kept cracking his whip and talked to them until the lights came back on.

There are times when all of us are confronted with tigers in the dark and we lose trust. We don't trust the government. Some don't trust the Church. We lose trust in relationships, in spouses, even our children.

When the lights go out and darkness prevails trust that God's got the tigers under control.

I imagine that different letters in the New Testament were written with varying degrees of haste. Paul wrote an angry letter to the church at Corinth. You can tell that as he wrote it he had a lot of things on his mind. On the other hand, the Book of 1st Thessalonians consists almost entirely of prayers and praise. Obviously, there was not a great sense of urgency about the letter. When Paul wrote his brief letter to Philemon, he told his friend and former slave, Onesimus, to personally deliver it. It could have gotten there a lot faster if it had gone by the regular mail, but Paul wanted this letter hand delivered.

Then there was the letter written to the Hebrews, from which our scripture text for this morning comes. It was a thick letter. Probably took three stamps to mail it. And on the front of that letter I feel sure that the wrote: Special Delivery. There is a sense of urgency about this letter. The moment you open the letter up you know why. Hold on, it says. How many times does the author write—hold on. Don’t shrink back. Don’t despair. Don’t give up. Stir up each other. Encourage each other. Don’t stop going to your worship assemblies. Don’t get discouraged. All the way through that is the tone. The writer, who is a pastor, is trying his best to revive a church.

What is wrong with the church? When you read the letter you discover that it was once a church that was full of love and joy and fellowship. It took delight in serving each other and serving the Lord. But that is now no longer the case. Between that time of wonderful joy and the writing of this letter something dreadful has happened to this church. What has gone wrong?

I. There is heresy.
II. There is pagan worship.
III. There is persecution.
IV. But primarily they no longer care.

Important lessons are given by this alternation of the two ideas of faith and unbelief, obedience and disobedience. Disobedience is the root of unbelief. Unbelief is the mother of further disobedience. Faith is voluntary submission within a person's own power. If faith is not exercised, the true cause lies deeper than all intellectual reasons. It lies in the moral aversion of human will and in the pride of independence, which says, "who is Lord over us? Why should we have to depend on Jesus Christ?" As faith is obedience and submission, so faith breeds obedience, but unbelief leads on to higher-handed rebellion. With dreadful reciprocity of influence, the less one trusts, the more he disobeys; the more he disobeys, the less he trusts.

Note: We do not advise using this illustration in a sermon. In fact, we strongly advise against it, but we thought it a great meditation for us clergy, considering subjects of Law and Grace. Here it it:

In Mary Gordon's novel, Final Payments, a book addressing the repression of many young Catholics of the 50s and 60s, a young woman named Isabel Moore has just buried her father after several years of illness, during which she was confined to his bedside. For several months, she flounders, trying to discover what she has the aptitude to do with the remainder of her life. She finally accepts employment as a social worker, going into homes to check on the welfare of ill and elderly people kept by individuals or families under contract to the social services department. One day she is visiting a Mr. Spenser, an 83-year-old man who lives his life in a bed. As she enters his room his teeth are out, and he's reading the Memoirs of Casanova. He is very polite, and offers to put his teeth in, but she says he need not. They talk with great ease and candor, for Isabel has been accustomed to conversing for hours with her father.

Mr. Spenser says that most people are kind to the elderly only out of guilt. Isabel asks if he doesn't believe in acts of pure generosity. He responds that he finds the very concept of purity rather "jejune." Isabel says he reminds her of a friend she loves but whom she cannot have because he is married and has a daughter. Mr. Spenser talks with her about love and tells her she is a beautiful woman. She doesn't think she is, but his insistence encourages her, and she thanks him.

As she prepares to leave, he asks a favor.

"Name it," she says.

"Let me see your breasts."

At first, Isabel says she can't. He wants to know why. She says merely because they are hers. But then she thinks: What could it hurt? She remembers the woman in The Brothers Karamazov who tells a priest she cannot give up an adulterous affair because "it gives him so much pleasure and me so little pain." She locks the door, unbuttons her blouse, loosens and removes her brassiere, and stands there.

Mr. Spenser says nothing. He looks, then closes his eyes.

"You have done me a great kindness," he says. "You have given me what I wanted, not what you thought I wanted, or what you wanted me to want."

Isabel dresses. They shake hands very formally. She unlocks the door and leaves.

Some may find prurience in this passage, but I sense instead a great depth of love and mercy, a recognition of our common humanity, an act of genuine and redemptive compassion. What law is operating here? The law forbidding sexual looseness, voyeurism, and lust? Or is that transcended, in Isabel's case, by the law of kindness and generosity? The latter, I would contend. There is more of the authentic spirit of Jesus in Isabel's act than in all the railing against sensuality and pornography by the Jesse Helmses and James Wildmons, and certainly more than in the stern judgmentalism of the Puritan community that condemned Hester Prynne in Hawthorne's novel.

And it is this higher law, the law of love and understanding, that must be identified and taught from our pulpits in the coming century. The media often understand this better than our churches, and their dramas frequently turn on the contrast between the hypocrisy of "good" Christians and the genuine kindness of instinctively well-dispositioned persons in the secular culture outside the church. This is not to say that Hollywood is a better gauge of morals than the church; however, the preacher can help to dispel the confusion parishioners feel by more consistently identifying Christ's position over against that of the legalists and by saying no to the Phariseeism that continues to plague the church from generation to generation.

There was a nature show on television about a black bear that gave birth to two cubs. One cub died right away. Three weeks later the mother died and the remaining cub was left to fend for itself. An orphaned cub in that condition is like a walking buffet for predators. And of course the camera immediately showed a hungry-looking mountain lion.

One day the orphan cub encountered a giant male black bear. The little cub cowered at the bear's sheer mass. The larger bear peered around and seemed to realize that the mother bear wasn't anywhere to be found. He gave the little cub a friendly nudge. The camera then showed the little bear happily trailing along after the larger one. The adoption papers were signed, sealed and registered at the county seat in that nudge. Papa bear proceeded to show the cub how to grub for insects and how to catch fish and how to scratch his back against a tree.

One day the two bears became separated. The cub began to cry and looked frantically for his new father, but couldn't find him anywhere. The cub approached a stream where he'd learned to fish and something caught his attention. He looked up to see a mountain lion ready to pounce. That same mountain lion had stalked the cub for the entire show. There was no way that mountain lion would've gone for that cub with Papa bear around, but now....

The camera zoomed in on the cub. He automatically mimicked the posture of his adopted father when threatened. He stood on his hind legs and bared his teeth. Then, in the exactly the same way his new father would have done, this cub let loose a mighty growl that should have reverberated throughout the forest. But, only a tiny bear cub squeak came out.

Well, you know what was coming. But, to everybody's astonishment the mountain lion lowered his head and ran off in the opposite direction.

The camera panned back to the proud little cub still standing tall on his hind legs. And then all the viewers saw what that little cub Could Not: a few yards behind him, at full, ferocious height, his sharp, white teeth bared in a snarl, stood Daddy bear. He may not have made a sound, but he was there.

And even though the cub couldn't see his father, his father stood guard, protecting his young. The little cub had power available greater than anything he could produce on his own. There was a greater power watching over him.

Jesus said, "They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them."

In the "Peanuts" comic strip we find Sally waking up in the morning. She jumps out of bed, walks into Charlie Brown’s room, wakes him up and says, "Duck, big brother! Here comes another day!"

Every one of us has experienced similar feelings at one time or another. If we visualize the new day as something to be ducked, we will not be anxious to get out of bed. On the other hand, if the world and life are seen as a great opportunity, then we cannot wait to get back into it each morning. Although all of us have our ups and downs, it is God’s will for our lives that each dawn brings a new beginning, a new joy, as we are blessed with still another opportunity to sample his magnificent creation.

Yet so many people drag through life missing much of what it has to offer. They come across an opportunity for their lives, and they think of all the reasons why it won’t work. It could work for thousands of other people but not for them. These people are worry creators and optimism deflators.

The Devil has a merry time in Hell rejoicing that these negative, self-distrusting thinkers are literally stewing in their own juices. Satan wants them to forget that God created them in his own image. He wants Jesus’ promise of an abundant, worthwhile life to seem little more than a sanctimonious saying.

But the Bible says, "With God all things are possible." Satan detests that God is suggesting to you that you can become a somebody in a world of too many nobodies, a success in a crowd of failures. He does not want you to live up to your God-given potential; instead he wants you to be down on yourself, to hate to get out of bed in the morning.

Tomorrow morning, when the alarm rings, be the person God says you can be. Proclaim with the psalmist, "This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it." Next upon your lips should be the verse, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Then jump out of bed and meet the day head-on, walking with the Lord and finding pleasure, possibility, and fulfillment in each step.

There is a story told of one of Verdi's operas. The composer was young and this particular work had been produced in a hurry. Verdi knew that it was not his best. It was produced for the first time in Florence and at the end the enthusiastic yet undiscriminating audience went into quite unwarranted raptures and cheered the composer. The cheers echoed down the halls of the theatre. But Verdi paid little heed.

He had eyes for only one man. He looked to the box where this one man sat. All the plaudits of the crowd would not compensate for the lack of this man's approval. The man was Rossini and he was not smiling.

Much is wrong with our society. We can all make a list: broken homes, the increase in violence and dishonesty, the lack of integrity in public life, the slow slide of the church into adopting the ways of the world, the decay of sexual morality. Who is willing to be the watchman who sounds the alarm? Who will call us back to God in repentance? It will not be a popular task.

This Advent we salute the forerunner who prepared the way by challenging the people's sins. He was not after the popular vote. He had eyes only for God. Are we ready to share his work and mission?

Harriet Tubman was a brave woman who escaped slavery during the Civil War. Despite a huge reward for her capture, she returned to the slave-holding states over nineteen times to lead hundreds of African-Americans out of slavery's clutches into territory where they could live with liberty. Harriet Tubman was a Christian and she became a great warrior in the battle to dismantle the cruel institution of slavery. When asked about the source of her fearless strength, she would always say: "It wasn't me, it was the Lord. I always told him, 'I trust you. I don't know where to go or what to do, but I expect you to lead me.' And he always did." Harriet Tubman, the Black Moses, was never captured, and there are countless stories like these, and new stories are being told daily. They are the stories of Christian people who learn to lead because they keep rediscovering what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

A great way to end your sermon might be to read Dr. King's Last Christmas Letter. I have seldom seen it referenced, since King is most often cited for his "I Have a Dream" speech. But this Christmas Letter is also a dream speech. So here it is in its entirety.

Greetings of the Season:

When the horizons of man’s destiny loom ashen and somber; when the deafening report of weaponry stuns yearnings for peace; when people are alienated from the outside society, spiritually isolated, and weary of heart; when a child is hungry, a father desperate, and a mother fearful, the beseeching question arises, where can one turn?

This year that question is so relevant and contemporary, so deeply serious and urgent for all who will face it that all of us must search now for a reasoned yet comforting answer.

We cannot deny the dreadful conditions found in our society and in the world. Global holocaust is no longer a mere technological possibility; it is a direct and escalating threat. The spirit of man everywhere has been dampened, and often his mind is engulfed in gloom. And there are millions of hungry children, defeated fathers, and frightened mothers in our land and others.

We, these people, you, all of us must have not only hope for the unknown future but also confidence in our capacity to change the menacing present. Let us put hands and heart, mind and muscle to this task. Let us not give up, for surrender and apathy are nothing but failure. In our work let us see scorn and ridicule of us for what they are, scornful and ridiculous. “Keep your hand on the plow,” the old spiritual admonishes. “Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me ’round,” the freedom song declares.

This is a season when we can summon that kind of determination and bold purpose required to create inner peace and to commit external acts of good will.

Peace and good will, the simplest and most elusive of dreams, the dreams of this season, begin with the individual before they can be extended to collective man. So let us begin with ourselves.

If we as individual human beings will spurn selfishness, we shall appreciate the value of true love of self, and the exhilarating beauty of living. And if we recognize that all people can become truly alive and beautiful, we will understand the cosmic truth that all men are brothers and inseparable. Then we will see where we must go and how we must live. Real brothers cannot kill each other, are incapable of oppressing each other, and are utterly unable to hate each other because they are as one in the embodiment of dignity and respect.

We who know we are brothers therefore have a duty to bring others back into the broken family of man and into our world house. In the context of the modern world we must live together as brothers or we shall perish divided as fools……

We wish you and yours a joyous Holiday and a New Year of fulfillment.

Martin Luther King, Jr., December 25, 1962

Years ago, Dr. Arthur John Gossip preached a sermon entitled, "When Life Tumbles In, What Then?" He preached it the day after his beloved wife had suddenly died. He closed with these words:

"I don't think you need to be afraid of life. Our hearts are very frail, and there are places where the road is very steep and lonely, but we have a wonderful God. And as Paul puts it, ‘What can separate us from His love? Not death,' he writes immediately. No, not death, for standing in the roaring Jordan, cold with its dreadful chill and, conscious of its terror, of its rushing, I, too, like Hopeful in Pilgrim’s Progress, can call back to you who one day in your turn will have to cross it, 'Be of good cheer, my brother, for I feel the bottom and it is sound."'

Having spent some time in the wilderness, Moses sent out spies into the land of Canaan. They returned telling of people who were giants, of cities which were fortified, and of a land flowing with milk and honey.

Caleb, a very godly man, said, "Let us go up at once and possess it, for we are well able to conquer it." However, the majority of the spies replied, "Not against people as strong as they are, they would crush us. We were in our sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight."

If we perceive of ourselves as grasshoppers, that is precisely what we will become. Others will also see us as grasshoppers - little more than insects to be crushed underfoot.

Today the church finds itself in an alienated world. It receives a bad press with few exceptions. It is portrayed on television and in the movies as either corrupt or insipid. It’s not "the fashionable thing" to be a Christian. Christians are speaking less and less about their faith, and when they do, they speak in apologetic terms. We are becoming as grasshoppers in the world when God is calling upon us to be spiritual giants.

Every person who claims Jesus Christ as Lord is God’s personal representative to this generation. Each of us must feel personally responsible for sharing the Good News with others. If we don’t tell them, they may never hear it.

It is not possible to be a Christian and to "let George do it." There is no such thing as a secret service Christian. Be proud of your love affair with God. Hold your head high. Commit yourselves to his service. Grasshoppers make little difference in today’s world.

After a violent storm one night, a large tree, which over the years had become a stately giant, was found lying across the pathway in a park. Nothing but a splintered stump was left. Closer examination showed that it was rotten at the core because thousands of tiny insects had eaten away at its heart. The weakness of that tree was not brought on by the sudden storm; it began the very moment the first insect nested within its bark. With the Holy Spirit's help, let's be very careful to guard our purity.

The following study should alarm us adults and cause us to do something NOW to reverse this looming crisis. Here's the study:

A group of educators and scholars, alarmed at soaring rates of teenage homicides, suicides and out-of-wedlock births, attacked what it called the "timidity" of schools in instilling good character traits in the young. The 27 academics warned that "schools in general are not doing enough to counter the symptoms of serious decline in youth character." The report, "Developing Character: Transmitting Knowledge," cited government statistics showing that out-of-wedlock births females ages 15-19 have increased 800 percent since 1940, and the rate of death by homicide for males, 15-24 climbed 315 percent.

A horrible outlook. But perhaps we are too late, since this report was published by the Spokesman-Review, in November of 1984. 

Some, said Peter, say that you are Elijah. Now why would people think that Jesus was the long deceased prophet Elijah? Elijah was, of course, a highly revered personality in the religious life of the Hebrews. His defeat of the 450 prophets of Baal on the top of Mt. Carmel was a story that was known even by little children. It was a commonly held belief among the Hebrews that one day Elijah would return and that would mark the end of the world. In the very last passage in the Old Testament, in the Book of Malachi, we find these words: "Behold I will send you Elijah the prophet before that great and dreadful day of the Lord comes."

Most of you have read Charles Schultz's comic strip Peanuts. One day we see that the television is on but there is no one in the room listening to it. The announcer is talking about a golf tournament that is in process. He says: Smith has to make this putt to win the championship. There will be no tomorrow." And just as he says, "There will be no tomorrow," in walks Lucy. She immediately goes into a panic and starts running around and yelling to the other children: "The world is coming to an end. They just announced it on television." Her panic quickly spreads as we see all the peanuts kids as they go wildly screaming about. Finally in the last square we see all of the children huddled on top of Snoopy's doghouse waiting for the end of the world. And Charlie Brown finally speaks up with a puzzled voice: I thought that Elijah was supposed to come back first."

Well, Charlie Brown knew his Bible. Elijah was suppose to come back before the end time. When the disciples told Jesus that some people thought he was Elijah, they were expressing a common thought among the people that the end was very near.

Catherine Booth was the "mother" of the Salvation Army. "Wherever Catherine Booth went," said Campbell Morgan, "humanity went to hear her. Princes and peeresses merged with paupers and prostitutes."

One night, Morgan shared in a meeting with Mrs. Booth; and a great crowd of "publicans and sinners" was there. Her message brought many to Christ. After the meeting, Morgan and Mrs. Booth went to be entertained at a fine home; and the lady of the manor said, "My dear Mrs. Booth, that meeting was dreadful"

"What do you mean, dearie?" asked Mrs. Booth.

"Oh, when you were speaking, I was looking at those people opposite to me. Their faces were so terrible, many of them. I don't think I shall sleep tonight!"

"Why, dearie, don't you know them?" Mrs. Booth asked; and the hostess replied, "Certainly not!"

"Well, that is interesting," Mrs. Booth said. "I did not bring them with me from London; they are your neighbors!"

According to James Hamilton, there are two kinds of Bible readers those who skim the surface and those who dig deep. He describes them by comparing them to two common insects. He writes, "One is remarkable for its imposing plumage, which shows in the sunbeams like the dust of gems; as you watch its jaunty gyrations over the fields and its minuet dance from flower to flower, you cannot help admiring its graceful activity, for it is plainly getting over a great deal of ground.

"But in the same field there is another worker, whose brown vest and businesslike, straightforward flight may not have arrested your eye. His fluttering neighbor darts down here and there, and sips elegantly wherever he can find a drop of ready nectar; but this dingy plodder makes a point of alighting everywhere, and wherever he alights he either finds honey or makes it. If the flower-cup be deep, he goes down to the bottom; if its dragon- mouth be shut, he thrusts its lips asunder; and if the nectar be peculiar, he explores all about till he discovers it. . . His rival of the painted velvet wing has no patience for such dull and long-winded details. . . The one died last October. The other is warm in his hive, amidst the fragrant stores he has gathered." Which type of Bible reader are you? Butterfly or bee?

A few years ago, AT&T had a major snafu in New York City.  They had an agreement with the city that, when electrical demand peaked, AT&T would switch to their backup generators.  One day they did that, and something went wrong.  When they switched over, the resulting power surge blew a number of rectifiers.  Not only did that knock out phone service in the area, it also disrupted communications for air controllers at Kennedy, LaGuardia, and Newark airports.  Over a thousand flights were affected. 

Usually, technicians would fix that kind of blackout quickly.  However, they didn't respond quickly on that particular occasion.  While alarm bells rang unheard, the technicians were--believe it or not--attending a training session on how to handle an emergency. 

I worry that something like that often happens in the church. Christ has called us to serve the world for which he died.  Worship is that time when we strengthen our spirits for service to the world. When worship becomes an end in itself, we are not being what Christ has called us to be. We need to be shaken from our sanctuaries and into the streets. 

Kathleen Norris writes, "When I think of the demons I need to exorcise, I have to look inward, to my heart and soul. Anger is my best demon, useful whenever I have to go into a Woman Warrior mode, harmful when I use it to gratify myself, either in self-justification, or to deny my fears. My husband, who has a much sweeter nature than I, once told me that my mean streak grieved him, not just because of the pain it cause him but because it was doing me harm. His remark, as wise as that of any desert Abba, felt like an exorcism. Not that my temptation to anger was magically gone, but I was called to pay closer attention to something that badly needed attention, and that was hurting our marriage. It confirmed my understanding of marriage as a holy act: one can no more hide one's true faults from a spouse than from God, and in exorcising the demon of anger, that which could kill is converted, transformed into that which can heal."

What are your best demons? To name them for what they are and how they bring suffering, is half the battle.

Some years ago before the death of Mother Theresa, a television special depicted the grim human conditions that were a part of her daily life. It showed all the horror of the slums of Calcutta and her love for these destitute people. The producer interviewed her as she made her rounds in that dreadful place. Throughout the program commercials interrupted the flow of the discussion. Here is the sequence of the topics and commercials: lepers (bikinis for sale); mass starvation (designer jeans); agonizing poverty (fur coats); abandoned babies (ice cream sundaes) the dying (diamond watches).

The irony was so apparent. Two different worlds were on display--the world of the poor and the world of the affluent. It seems that our very culture here in the United States, and any other place that has a great deal of commercialization to it, is teaching us to live as the Rich Man in the story of Lazarus. We are occasionally presented with the images of the poor man Lazarus at our gate but we are immediately reminded of the next car we ought to by and the next meal we should eat. We are slowly and methodically told it is O.K. to live our life of luxury while others live their life of poverty. But alas, it is not so! Heaven's reversal of fortune shall one day awaken us to the fact that we have separated ourselves from the agonies of others. That we did not care about others who suffered.

Once on a time a paper kite
Was mounted to a wondrous height,

Where, giddy with its elevation,
It thus express'd self-admiration:

"See how yon crowds of gazing people
Admire my flight above the steeple;

How would they wonder if they knew
All that a kite like me can do!

Were I but free, I'd take a flight,
And pierce the clouds beyond their sight,

But, ah! like a poor pris'ner bound,
My string confines me near the ground;

I'd brave the eagle's towring wing,
Might I but fly without a string."

It tugg'd and pull'd, while thus it spoke,
To break the string at last it broke.

Depriv'd at once of all its stay,
In vain it try'd to soar away;

Unable its own weight to bear,
It flutter'd downward through the air;

Unable its own course to guide,
The winds soon plung'd it in the tide.

Ah! foolish kite, thou hadst no wing,
How could'st thou fly without a string!

My heart reply'd, "O Lord, I see
How much this kite resembles me!

Forgetful that by thee I stand,
Impatient of thy ruling hand;

How oft I've wish'd to break the lines
Thy wisdom for my lot assigns?

How oft indulg'd a vain desire
For something more, or something high'r?

And, but for grace and love divine,
A fall thus dreadful had been mine."

That gentle and remarkable man of literature and faith, Robert Louis Stevenson, has given us the inspiring story of a ship in a severe storm at sea. The passengers, huddled in the darkness below decks, were in awful fear for their lives. At last, they chose one of their number to go topside and learn what he could about their situation and their chances.

Reaching the forward deck, this man stood a few moments looking up to the bridge where the captain at the wheel was struggling against the storm. The captain, seeing him there, turned briefly to him and smiled reassuringly. The man returned quickly to the others below, saying to them, "I have seen the face of the pilot, and he smiled. All is well."

Here, my friends, as we are in worship together, whatever storms may surge about us, let us look up and try to see our Pilot's face. Whatever uncertainties may plague us, whatever fears afflict us, our Pilot is at the helm: of this you can be absolutely certain. So, in this hour, let us look up to him and know that he will see us through.

The answer you get largely depends on the question you ask. Here's a grave example: Several centuries ago, a curious but deadly plague appeared in a small village in Lithuania. What was curious about this disease was its grip on its victim; as soon as a person contracted it, he would go into a very deep almost deathlike coma. Most individuals would die within twenty-four hours, but occasionally a hardy soul would make it back to the full bloom of health. The problem was that since early eighteenth century medical technology was not very advanced, the unafflicted had quite a difficult time telling whether a victim was dead or alive. This didn't matter too much, though, because most of the people were, in fact, dead.

Then one day it was discovered that someone had been buried alive. This alarmed the townspeople, so they called a town meeting to decide what should be done to prevent such a situation from happening again. After much discussion, most people agreed on the following solution. They decided to put food and water in every casket next to the body. They would even put an air hole up from the casket to the earth's surface. These procedures would be expensive, but they would be more than worthwhile if they would save some people's lives.

Another group came up with a second, less expensive, right answer. They proposed implanting a twelve inch long steak in every coffin lid directly over where the victim's heart would be. Then whatever doubts there were about whether the person was dead or alive would be eliminated as soon as the coffin lid was closed.

Why the two solutions? Because of the two question. The first group asked, "What should we do in the event we bury somebody alive?", the second group asked, "How can we make sure everyone we bury is dead?" 

Often times questions reveal motives and the character of the person asking the question.

How many of you drive yourselves crazy every year trying to have a Martha Stewart's Christmas? You know who you are. And you know as hard as you try you're never able to achieve it. It always turns out to be an Erma Bombeck Christmas doesn't it?

I have a letter here that Martha Stewart sent to Erma Bombeck.

Hi Erma,

This perfectly delightful note is being sent on paper I made myself to tell you what I have been up to. Since it snowed last night, I got up early and made a sled with old barn wood and a glue gun. I hand painted it in gold leaf, got out my loom, and made a blanket in peaches and mauves. Then to make the sled complete, I made a white horse to pull it, from DNA molecules that I had just sitting around in my craft room.

By then, it was time to start making the place mats and napkins for my 20 breakfast guests. I'm serving the old standard Stewart twelve-course breakfast, but I'll let you in on a little secret: I didn't have time to make the tables and chairs this morning, so I used the ones I had on hand.

Before I moved the table into the dining room, I decided to add just a touch of the holidays. So I repainted the room in pinks and stenciled gold stars on the ceiling. Then, while the homemade bread was rising, I took antique candle molds and made the dishes (exactly the same shade of pink) to use for breakfast. These were made from Hungarian clay, which you can get at almost any Hungarian craft store.

Well, I must run. I need to finish the buttonholes on the dress I'm wearing for breakfast. I'll get out the sled and drive this note to the post office as soon as the glue dries on the envelope I'll be making. Hope my breakfast guests don't stay too long, I have 40,000 cranberries to string with bay leaves before my speaking engagement at noon.

Love, Martha Stewart

P.S. When I made the ribbon for this typewriter, I used 1/8-inch gold gauze. I soaked the gauze in a mixture of white grapes and blackberries which I grew, picked, and crushed last week just for fun.

Here is Erma Bombeck's reply: Dear Martha, I'm writing this on the back of an old shopping list, pay no attention to the coffee and jelly stains. I'm 20 minutes late getting my daughter up for school, packing a lunch with one hand, and holding the phone with the other. I'm on hold with the dog pound, seems old Ruff needs bailing out again. Burnt my arm on the curling iron when I was trying to make those cute curly fries, HOW do they do that? Still can't find the scissors to cut out some snowflakes, tried using an old disposable razor...trashed the tablecloth. Tried that cranberry thing, frozen cranberries mashed up after I defrosted them in the microwave. Oh, and don't use Fruity Pebbles as a substitute in that Rice Krispie snowball recipe, unless you happen to like a disgusting shade that resembles puke! The smoke alarm is going off, talk to ya' later.

Love, Erma

Who here is not guilty of trying to have a Martha Stewart Christmas? None of us. "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire," who of us has ever roasted Chestnuts on an open fire? "Dashing through the snow, on a one horse opensleigh." I was 27 years old before I understood they were singing "One horse open sleigh." Up till then I had mumbled those words. We don't have sleighs in Memphis. Last sleigh I owned I was 10 years old. I remember using it once and it came to a grinding halt every ten feet due to the exposure of asphalt.

So much of what we do during this season, if you read the scriptures with more than a cursory glance, is strikingly foreign to that first Christmas.

Let me tell you of someone who knows about the Spirit of God invading a life. This story is told by Michael Card in his book, Immanuel.  It is about Joseph, a tall, slender Massai warrior in Kenya. Some time ago he met a man along a dusty African road who told him the story of Christ. Joseph became a believer and rejoiced in the "Jesus story."  Joseph became a fiery witness, to the point that he later made the long journey from Africa to Amsterdam for an Evangelism conference with Billy Graham. His greatest hope was to meet Graham in person.  A staff member named Robert was so struck by Joseph's story that he made it possible for Joseph to tell his conversion experience to Dr. Graham. You need to hear Joseph's story in his own words:

"After I met Jesus, I was so excited that I just knew everyone in my village would be happy to meet him also. So I went door-to-door telling everyone I met about the cross of Jesus and the salvation it offered.  To my amazement my people not only didn't care, they became hostile.  The men held me to the ground while the women began beating me with barbed wire. I was dragged from the village and left to die in the bush."  Joseph somehow managed to crawl to a water hole, and there, after two days of passing in and out of consciousness, found he had the strength to get up. He was puzzled about the hostile reception from family and friends whom he had known all his life. "I decided that I must have left something important out of the story I told them about Jesus. So I practiced it over and over, then limped back to tell them the good news. I went again, from hut-to-hut telling about Jesus who died for us so we might find forgiveness and know the living God. Again they held me down and I was beaten, opening anew the former wounds. They dragged me unconscious outside the camp and I was left for dead. I woke up two days later, scarred and bruised, but still alive. For the third time I went back into my home village and started to witness. But they were waiting for me. I was set upon, thrown to the ground and as the beatings began I passed out. When I awakened this time I was in my own bed. The folks who had been whipping on me had now become my nurses. Everyone in my village had become a believer in Christ." After telling Billy Graham his story, Joseph lifted his colorful African shirt and showed his scars.  Afterward, Billy said to his staff, "I'm not worthy to untie his shoes, and he wanted to meet me?"  

Because most of us have been brought up in the church, we may not realize that there is more to faith than simply going through our normal religious routines, as important as they are. Christ has promised us a comforter, an encourager, someone who will fill us with new excitement about our lives so that we may more easily translate our good intentions into positive actions. Paul tells us to use our head. He tells us to open our hearts to God's Spirit so that we will have power for the living of our lives. 

In the early part of World War II, a Navy submarine was stuck on the bottom of the harbor in New York City. It seemed that all was lost. There was no electricity and the oxygen was quickly running out. In one last attempt to rescue the sailors from the steel coffin, the U.S. Navy sent a ship equipped with Navy divers to the spot on the surface, directly above the wounded submarine. A Navy diver went over the side of the ship to the dangerous depths in one last rescue attempt. The trapped sailors heard the metal boots of the diver land on the exterior surface, and they moved to where they thought the rescuer would be. In the darkness they tapped in Morse code, "Is there any hope?" The diver on the outside, recognizing the message, signaled by tapping on the exterior of the sub, "Yes, there is hope."

This is the picture of our dilemma as we worship this glad Easter Day. Humankind is trapped in a dreadful situation. All around we are running low on hope, and we look for a word from beyond offering it to us. This world in which we live is plagued with war and famine, mounting debt and continual destruction. The more we try to rescue ourselves the more we seem to fall behind. We wonder: Is there any hope?

In a home of which I know, a little boy, the only son, was ill with an incurable disease. Month after month the mother had tenderly nursed him, read to him, and played with him, hoping to keep him from the dreadful finality of the doctor's diagnosis—the little boy was sure to die. But as the weeks went on, he gradually began to understand that he would never be like the other boys he saw playing outside his window. Small as he was, he began to understand the meaning of the term death, and he too knew he was to die.

One day his mother had been reading to him the stirring tale of King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table, of Lancelot and Elaine the lily maid of Astelot, and about that last glorious battle where so many fair knights met their death.

She closed the book as her little son sat silent for an instant, deeply stirred. Then he asked the question weighing on his childish heart, "Mama, what is it like to die? Mama, does it hurt?" Quick tears sprang to her eyes and she fled to the kitchen, supposedly to tend to something on the stove. She knew it was a question with deep significance. She knew it must be answered satisfactorily. So, she leaned for an instant against the smooth surface and breathed a hurried prayer that the Lord would keep her from breaking down before the boy and that she would be able to tell him the answer; the Lord did tell her. Immediately she knew how to explain it to him.

"Kenneth," she said to her son, "do you remember when you were a tiny boy how you used to play so hard all day that when night came you were too tired even to undress and you'd tumble into your mother's bed and fall asleep. That was not your bed, it was not where you belonged. You would only stay there a little while. Much to your surprise you would wake up and find yourself in your own bed in your own room. You were there because someone had loved you and taken care of you. Your father had come with big strong arms and carried you away.

Merrill Tenney gives his observation about the work of a vinedresser and the pruning process in his commentary on John: 

In pruning a vine, two principles are generally observed: first, all dead wood must be ruthlessly removed; and second, the live wood must be cut back drastically. Dead wood harbors insects and disease and may cause the vine to rot, to say nothing of being unproductive and unsightly. Live wood must be trimmed back in order to prevent such heavy growth that the life of the vine goes into the wood rather than into fruit. The vineyards in the early spring look like a collection of barren, bleeding stumps; but in the fall they are filled with luxuriant purple grapes. As the farmer wields the pruning knife on his vines, so God cuts dead wood out from among His saints, and often cuts back the living wood so far that His method seems cruel. Nevertheless, from those who have suffered the most there often comes the greatest fruitfulness.

G. K. Chesterton, the noted British poet and theologian, was a brilliant man who could think deep thoughts and express them well. However, he was also extremely absent-minded and over the years he became rather notorious for getting lost. He would just absolutely forget where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to be doing. On one such occasion, he sent a telegram to his wife which carried these words: "Honey, seems I'm lost again. Presently, I am at Market Harborough. Where ought I to be?" As only a spouse could say it, she telegraphed back a one-word reply "HOME!"

This is precisely what this classic passage in the first chapter of Matthew does for us... it brings us home...

Home to the real meaning of Christmas

Home to the most magnificent truth in the entire Bible

Home to our Lord's greatest promise

Home to the reason we celebrate Christmas

Namely this: "GOD IS WITH US!" When we accept Christ into our lives, nothing, not even death, can separate us from God and His love. It is what Christmas is about. God is with us. The great people of faith have always claimed that promise. Just think of it:

Moses caught between the Pharaoh and the deep Red Sea in a seemingly hopeless situation believed that God was with him and he went forward and trusted God to open a way and He did!

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego went into the fiery furnace into a seemingly hopeless situation and they trusted God to be with them and He was!

Little David stood before Goliath. What chance could a small boy with a slingshot have against this giant of a warrior? But David believed that God was with him and it made all the difference!

Now, it's interesting to note that when the writer of Matthew's gospel wanted to capture the meaning of Christmas, the meaning of the Christ event, the meaning of Jesus in a single word, he did a very wise thing. He reached back into the Old Testament, pulled out an old word, dusted it off, and used it to convey the message. The word was Emmanuel. That's what Jesus is about "His name shall be called Emmanuel" which means, "God is with us."

The impact of that Christmas promise is incredible. When you believe that, when you accept that, when you claim that promise it will absolutely change your life. Let me show you what I mean by bringing this closer to home. Let me underscore three ideas relating to this great promise of God's presence. I'm sure you will think of others, but for now please consider these. We can claim the great Christmas promise God with us...

1. When We Are Frightened.
2. When We Are Lonely.
3. When We Are in Sorrow.

It was in Scotland in 1881, when a fearful storm swept over that part of the country. A minister in the town of Eyemouth had a great many of the fishermen in his congregation. It had been very stormy weather, and the fishermen had been detained in the harbor for a week. One day, however, the sun shone out in a clear blue sky; it seemed as if the storm had passed away, and the boats started out for the fishing ground. Forty-one boats left the harbor that day.  Before they started, the harbor-master hoisted the storm signal, and warned them of the coming tempest. He begged of them not to go; but they disregarded his warning, and away they went. They saw no sign of the coming storm. In a few hours, however, it swept down on that coast, and very few of those fishermen returned. There were five or six men in each boat, and nearly all were lost in that dreadful gale. In the church there were three male members left.  Those men were ushered into eternity because they did not give heed to the warning. I lift up the storm signal now, and warn you to escape from the coming judgment!

Note: The Eyemouth Disaster was a severe European windstorm that struck the south-eastern coast of Scotland, United Kingdom, specifically Berwickshire, on 14 October 1881. One hundred and eighty-nine fishermen, most of whom were from the village of Eyemouth, were drowned. Many citizens of Eyemouth call the day Black Friday

Jesus is nothing less then the light of the world. This was plainly seen by thousands of people during the American influenza epidemic of 1918. During the height of that plague, churches and all public gathering places were ordered closed. Yet more than ever, it was then that people needed hope and consolation. Burdened by his inability to reach out to people in their time of need, one resourceful pastor thought of the magnificent stained glass windows that graced his church. Those windows faced a major thoroughfare and were large and commanding in design. He had numerous floodlights placed inside the church; illumination through the glass to the outside world gave passers-by the full effect of the window's story.

There for all to see were the matchless portrayals of Jesus: Jesus the good shepherd bearing a lamb on his bosom; Jesus the searching Savior rescuing the lone lost sheep while the ninety-nine rested safely on the fold; Jesus praying in Gethsemane; Jesus on the cross; Jesus triumphant in Resurrection glory. The silent sermons of light and stained glass spoke an eloquent message.

The Gospel of John puts it this way: The true light that gives light of every man was coming into the world. People who passed by the church would stop reverently, silently. They found themselves filled with new resolve and encouragement. They saw ever more clearly in that age of sickness the light of Christ glory which was coming into the world.

Martin Rinkart was a minister in the little town of Eilenburg in Germany some 350 years ago. He was the son of a poor coppersmith, but somehow, he managed to work his way through an education. Finally, in the year 1617, he was offered the post of Archdeacon in his hometown parish. A year later, what has come to be known as the Thirty-Years-War broke out. His town was caught right in the middle. In 1637, the massive plague that swept across the continent hit Eilenburg... people died at the rate of fifty a day and the man called upon to bury most of them was Martin Rinkart. In all, over 8,000 people died, including Martin's own wife. His labors finally came to an end about 11 years later, just one year after the conclusion of the war. His ministry spanned 32 years, all but the first and the last overwhelmed by the great conflict that engulfed his town.

Tough circumstances in which to be thankful. But he managed. And he wrote these words:

Now thank we all our God
With heart and hands and voices;
Who wondrous things hath done,
In whom his world rejoices.

It takes a magnificent spirit to come through such hardship and express gratitude. Here is a great lesson. Surrounded by tremendous adversity, thanksgiving will deliver you...with heart and hand and voices.

At this point I can imagine you thinking of some Sunday when you went to church and got nothing out of it. The Scripture was poorly read, the hymns were antiquated, the pastoral prayer was a wandering improvisation of trivial requests, the anthems were dreadful, and the sermon was a flop. Just so! Once in Switzerland I climbed the Rigi and saw nothing. The fog was so thick that one’s vision reached only a few feet. It reminded me of some church services of worship, when the spiritual fogs drift in. Sometimes they come from the pew, sometimes from the pulpit. One goes to church and sees nothing. One cannot argue, however, that because he climbed the Rigi and saw nothing, nothing is there to see. The view from the Rigi is magnificent. There are days when one beholds the unforgettable. It is worth climbing the Rigi more than once to see that view. So it is worth the patient developments of the high art of worship to secure its invaluable results. Somewhere within your reach there is a church whose fellowship will kindle to fresh fire all the best in you.