Country and western music tells stories of broken dreams and sad times. The mournful lyrics are often cries of hopelessness, helplessness, and insignificance in the overall scheme of things. Perhaps you are familiar with titles like these: "Every Time I Make My Mark, Somebody Paints The Wall"; "Here's A Quarter, Call Someone Who Cares"; "I'm Standing In The Middle Of The River And Dying Of Thirst"; "Why Don't Your Dog Bite Nobody But Me?"; "There's A Light At The End Of The Tunnel; Lord, I Hope It Ain't No Train."

God tells us in today's text that there is indeed a light at the end of the dark and dreary tunnel, and that light shines from the tiny, little insignificant town of Bethlehem Ephrathah. There is a light at the end of the tunnel and it is truly the Light of the World, Jesus the Christ. Here again is the Advent theme: The Light has come; the Light is coming; the Light will come again.

Sometimes, however, it is hard to accept that light as a very real part of our lives, especially when things go wrong ... when we discover over and over again that life isn't always fair ... when those country and western songs seem to be describing our own lives.

Things were certainly going wrong in Judah during Micah's era of the late eighth century B.C. The Assyrian army had conquered Northern Israel. Although Judah was spared at the time, political turmoil soon left Judah as a wrecked vassal state with Assyrian forces at its borders. Micah saw corruption among political, business, and religious leaders. He saw no hope in military efforts. Micah saw a coming destruction. However, he also saw that a remnant would be gathered by the Lord (2:12f; 5:7f). Micah saw that light at the end of the tunnel all right -- and the tunnel's end was not in the powerful fortress of Jerusalem. It was not under the tower of the citadel of David. At tunnel's end the light would shine from that tiny, insignificant little town, Bethlehem, of the tiny, most insignificant clan of Ephrathah -- the birthplace of Jesus the Christ.

"But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are little to be among the clans of Judah," states Micah, "from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days."

What about you, O sister and brother in Christ? Do you ever perceive yourselves as weak, helpless, and surrounded by pressures and powers beyond your control? Do you ever feel like a tiny, insignificant speck on the landscape of life around you? Do you ever feel as if you are, in the words of ELCA Bishop H. George Anderson, "Nothing more than an itch on the Body of Christ"? I know that I do.

We need a word from God. Where is God in all this? Today, that word comes from Micah. Listen again to his words, and this time substitute your name or the name of your community or congregation in the blank spaces. "And you O ______, _______ who are little among the clans of _____, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in _______, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days."

Here is The Word from God for you and me from ancient days. Christ has come! Christ is coming! Christ will come again! Christ came to us at baptism. Christ is with us now. Christ will come again. Alleluia!

You see, from insignificance comes promised power in the Lord. Micah declares that the promised Shepherd King from tiny little Bethlehem Ephrathah "shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord" (v. 4). Now, nourishment and strength do not always refer to promises of physical well-being, earthly power, and personal status. They come from the Lord.

Did you ever think that perhaps God's strength for you and for the Church might originate more in the love of Christ and less in the stories of Horatio Alger? During the nineteenth century, Alger became famous for writing over 100 novels featuring rags-to-riches stories that became the epitome of the American dream. The principle character invariably started life in poverty, experiencing a series of rejections and failures. Then, through a refusal to give up and a renewed dedication to succeed, the hero would basically pull himself out of poverty by his own bootstraps. Success and power were the certain result. Happy endings became the trademark of an Alger novel.

Alger's own life, however, did not have a happy ending. Disillusioned with writing, he tried many jobs with little success and less fulfillment. Eventually he suffered an emotional breakdown. Horatio Alger, whose name became synonymous with achievement of wealth and happiness, died penniless and miserable.

Success is not a "rags-to-riches" story of self-help and achievement. Happiness is not accomplished through our own efforts to realize our "full potential." True meaning and purpose in life, authentic success, is only found in the free gift of God in Jesus Christ.

True nourishment and strength are not obtained through what money can buy or personal status can achieve. Nourishment is given to you, for you in the bread and wine at the Lord's table. This meal nourishes the soul, forgives the sinful heart, and renews the relationship that sustains in the midst of life's turmoil. Strength is given in the power of the cross that leads us to face with courage the forces of evil that surround us.

Throughout history, every time God's people found success, something bad seemed to happen. The Assyrians conquered northern Israel. The Babylonians destroyed Jerusalem and took its leading citizens into exile. The Saleucian Greeks sacked the Jerusalem Temple and sacrificed pigs in its courtyard. The Romans carried out a terrible persecution of Christians. The powerful church of the Middle Ages crumbled from inner corruption. The Holy Catholic Church became a church fragmented by parochial and nationalistic concerns.

You see, our identity as the children of God is not based on success and stability according to the world's standards. Success in the eyes of the world is definitely short-lived. Something always happens that turns our lives into the laments of country and western music. Something always happens to bring us to our knees; to bring us to the true source of our identity, Jesus Christ. Promised power comes from within an awareness of the security given in the blood of Christ and not by the sweat of our own brows or by the efforts of anyone else. The Christ of Bethlehem Ephrathah brings significance to our lives. The Christ of Bethlehem Ephrathah makes us special people, God's people.

A friend's daughter spells her name Katy. On her first day of kindergarten, her teacher asked her to spell her name. "K-A-T-Y," she replied. "That's interesting," responded the teacher. "Most little girls I know with that name spell it K-A-T-I-E. I wonder why yours is different."

"I don't know," said Katy. "That's just the way Jesus wants it. I guess I'm just special."

Well, Katy might not always enjoy the success that either she or her parents desire. Yet she will always know that she is special because that is the way Jesus wants it. And so will we. That's what God has promised. With Katy, we know that this promise is sure and certain, and forever. Micah proclaims, "And they shall live secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth; and he shall be the one of peace" (vv. 4-5).

The identity of God's children is always shaped at the foot of the cross and not in a story by Horatio Alger. In the Christ of Bethlehem Ephrathah comes promised power.

Tiny town, promised power, for Bethlehem Ephrathah, for our congregations, and for you and me. God's promises do not fail. God's peace nourishes and strengthens. The powerful Light of Christ shines through the darkened tunnels of our lives."