Reverend Amy Zalk Larson – Good Shepherd Lutheran Church – Decorah, Iowa

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Beloved People of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

An image that’s lingering with me as we begin a new year comes from the very first day of 2020. Our extended family was on a beach vacation in Florida after Christmas. Each day started with a walk by the ocean. The morning of January 1st, we were delighted to see that someone had used seashells to write the numbers 2020 there on the sand. The digits looked fun and funky and inviting. 2020 here we come.

2019 had been a rough year for my family as we faced some serious health issues for my son. The promise of a new year, a new decade, was most needed and most welcome. 2020 is going to be a great year I remember thinking that morning. It didn’t quite meet my expectations. I remember as 2021 began so many of us expected that year to be drastically different from the hard 2020. But then Jan. 6, 2021 happened.

What do we do with our unmet expectations? How do we live with disappointments? That’s a question I’m holding as we start another new year, a question that our scriptures today also raise.

John the Baptist has high expectations of Jesus who he knows is the Messiah. In the passage right before this one, he says of Jesus, “His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and … the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” John seems to think that Jesus is coming to burn it all down – all the wealth and greed and injustice of Rome. Finally, King Herod
and the Emperor are going to get what they deserve. Bring it on. This is going to be a great year.

John stands in a river yelling for everyone to be cleansed, repent, get ready. And just as he’s done speaking, John sees Jesus on the horizon coming towards him. I imagine him turning to the crowd saying, “See what I’d tell ya, here he is now.” Except, his hands are empty – no winnowing forks, no weapons. And he doesn’t look terribly fiery, more curious kid than fierce Messiah. What’s he doing now, walking into the Jordan? He’s the strong one, he’s supposed to change everything! If he gets baptized, he’s going to give away all his power!

John’s expectations of Jesus are left unmet, and not for the last time. Later when John is in prison, I imagine him remembering the words of the prophet Isaiah, words we heard this morning that describe God’s chosen servant bringing prisoners from the dungeon. Alright Jesus, here I am, literally in prison. This is it. This is your time. Could you start acting like a Messiah? Any day now would be great. Jesus doesn’t spring John out of prison. Instead, he is executed there.

What did John do with all his unmet expectations? How did he deal with disappointment? What do we do with this stuff in our own lives each day and as a new year begins? Should we try to manage our expectations so we’re not disappointed? Set the bar low so that we’re always pleasantly surprised by our own efforts, by the people around us?

This week I read a reflection entitled “Giving Disappointment Its Due” by theology professor Jonathan Tran. Tran writes, “We might think disappointment’s bad, but it ain’t death. [Yet] death has everything to do with disappointment. After all, what is death’s sting other than the loss of an imagined future?” He continues, “Our society lacks resources for acknowledging dis- appointment. We have rituals for mourning death but not for disappointment. Instead of acknowledging your disappointment, most people would rather deflect it or explain it away: ‘You dodged a bullet’ or ‘It wasn’t in the cards’ or even ‘That wasn’t God’s plan’. And, no one avoids acknowledging our disappointment as much as we ourselves do. It hurts too much. It’s easier to store up enemies and resentment.”

Yet unmet expectations and disappointments are a part of being human. When we deny those parts of our lives, we deny our own humanity. God does not avoid, deflect, or explain away the
pain of being human. Instead, God enters into all of it. That day on the Jordan River, Jesus enters the fraught waters of our humanity. He takes on our sin, our disillusionment, all that is disheartening and distressing and death dealing. Jesus wades deep into it, faces it head on. In doing so, Jesus assures us: You can be dripping in this stuff and still be beloved of God.

Not just at the Jordan long ago but now in the waters of our baptism, God meets us in all hard stuff and joins us. We are joined to the death and resurrection of Jesus in baptism. In the waters, we die with Christ and are raised to new life again and again. We can’t escape the pain, but God meets us right there. This means, we can face the death dealing disappointments of this life knowing they
do not define us, they will not crush us. We will rise again today, tomorrow, each new day.

We can expect good things today and in the year ahead, for even in the midst of death, God is with us and God brings new life. This new life may not look like what we expect, but it will emerge, it will spring forth. It may not always be fun and funky and beautiful beach weather with hope spelled out in seashells, but it will emerge.

And when our expectations are unmet and our hopes dashed, God comes alongside to grieve with us, to call us beloved, to raise us up again. God’s presence also allows us to enter difficult waters with others, acknowledging what is hard and looking together for what new life will emerge. God’s
presence allows us to work for justice over the long haul, even when our expectations are disappointed time and time again.

Today, each new day, hear this word of promise for you.
You are God’s beloved child.
God is with you in all that is, all that has been, and all this is to come.

Let’s take a moment for silent prayer.

Reverend Amy Zalk Larson – Good Shepherd Lutheran Church  – Decorah, Iowa

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Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Emanuel, God with us.

The Word became flesh. God born in a human body. This is good news of great joy.

Our bodies have been hurting the last few years, the last few days, plagued by threats and nagging questions. As winds whip across fresh snow and temperatures plummet, how will we stay warm?

Is it wise to travel? How silly do I look walking like a penguin on the ice? As viruses rage and hospitals fill yet again, how will we protect elders and little ones? How long does long COVID last?

When will black lives, black bodies, finally matter to us all? When will children be safe in our schools? How will the hungry be fed in Haiti, Ethiopia, Ukraine, Palestine, at the southern border?

How will we all be fed as the climate changes quickly? These questions linger in the corners of our gatherings, in the back of our minds. We change the subject, turn off the news, seek an escape. Yet still they press in.

God draws closer still. God does not stand at a distance from bodies braced against the cold, bodies yearning for food, bodies aching with grief. God doesn’t say, “Well, my thoughts and prayers are with you. Best wishes for the new year.” No, God becomes flesh and lives among us. God knows what it is to have blistered feet, ingrown toenails, sinus congestion; what it is to long for the familiar smells of home; to feel that empty ache in the chest when a loved one dies. There is nothing of our life that is foreign to God. Nothing that can separate us from God.

As Martin Luther said, God became human so that humans can become one with God. Luther calls this the Happy Exchange. In Christ, God took all our failures, our sin, our death into God’s own self, God’s own body, and gave us forgiveness, light and life. This happens most fully now in Holy Communion. In this meal of Jesus’ body and blood, Christ enters every fiber and cell of our being so that we will share every part of God’s grace and truth. God is born again, within us. In this way, God’s presence in the world is multiplied abundantly – we become loaves and fishes to feed a hungry world.

We become the presence of God to one another, to a world in need. We experience God in those all around us. Pastor Eugene Peterson has a gorgeous translation of John 1, our Gospel for today. It includes this phrase, “the word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.” God is not at a distance. God lives now in that run down house around the corner, in that part of town you always want to avoid, in that noisy, chaotic, or all too quiet place you call home. God lives now in your body, in the bodies of your neighbors and those you fear, despise, ignore.

God takes on all this sin so that we will experience forgiveness, light and life deep within, so that we will be forgiveness, light and life for the world.

Th Word has become flesh. 

The Word lives now among us.

Good news of great joy.

Thanks be to God.

Reverend Amy Zalk Larson

Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Decorah, Iowa

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Beloved of God, grace and peace to you this holy night. Amen.

Let’s all take a deep breath. 

Kids, everyone, breathe in slowly and breathe out even slower. (pause) Amen.

It’s good to breathe because there’s a lot coming at us right now. For one thing, it took a bit to get to this place tonight. I don’t just mean the physical place. I mean this emotional space, this logistical space, and that includes everyone: those at home and those in the building. Christmas Eve can be complicated. It’s full of hopes, expectations, anticipation – kids you’ve been waiting a long time to open presents. There’s the juggling of commitments, the navigating of so many viruses, family dynamics, and of course, the great Christmas Blizzard of 2022. We’ll be talking about this one for decades.

There’s a lot coming at us right now from all directions: the news of the world, challenges in our own lives, the hidden and the all too visible losses. There’s a lot to carry. Yet still to you, to me, to us  this holy night – good news of great joy. Great joy comes to us at the very same time as everything else that’s coming at us. That’s what makes this story good news for us. Right in the middle of our messy, mixed-up lives, great joy is born. Great joy doesn’t wait until we’re perfectly peaceful.

At the end of the story of Jesus’ birth, it may appear that Mary is perfectly peaceful as she ponders all the things that have happened. Luke tells us, “Mary treasured the words of the shepherds and pondered them in her heart.” In English that word ponder can sound passive and peaceful, meek and mild. Yet the word Luke uses, the word that we hear in English as ponder, in Greek is Sum- ballo. Ballo means throw and Sum means with, or together. So, there’s this sense of all these things being thrown together. I can imagine Mary’s mind racing over the last months and all that has been thrown at her:

The angel Gabriel’s visit.

Joseph.

Her cousin Elizabeth – John leaping in Elizabeth’s womb.

Mary’s fierce and humble song of hope, resistance, and justice.

The news of the census which means even more taxes.

The powers that be and all the ways they impact her daily life.

The stress of travel, crossing borders and boundaries.

The uncertainty and desperation in Joseph’s voice.

The baby Jesus coming.

The exhaustion and relief. 

That verb, to ponder, to throw together, shows us Mary is holding all of this in her heart. She’s not passively having a moment, but actively carrying everything that is coming at her: joy and exhaustion, stress and peace, hopes and fears. Mary experiences all of it, holds it all. The good news is that Mary doesn’t have to hold it all together herself. A savior is born for her, for us. “Do not be afraid, for see I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born … a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” A savior is born, God in human flesh. Forgiveness cries out. Hope breathes. Tonight, this holy night, God is born. The baby that Mary holds and protects and worries over is also the very God who holds her, who holds you with such tenderness.

With so much coming at her, she is carried in the arms of love.

With so much coming at you, you are carried.

Amid the joy and exhaustion of your life, the stress and peace, you are held together by God who is born among us.

Tonight, when the “hopes and fears of all the years” meet, good news of great joy is born for you. 

Thanks be to God.

Reverend Amy Zalk Larson – Good Shepherd Lutheran Church  – Decorah, Iowa

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved People of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

Some disruptions in our life feel like holy gifts of God. A long-anticipated child is born healthy. No one sleeps. The house is chaotic. And your heart is full.

A new pet brings joy and piles of hair, warmth, and mess. You soak up the love and breathe more deeply, when you’re not choking on all that hair.

You start a new activity at school or in the community. It’s a ton of work and you’re tired, tired but happy.

You read Me and White Supremacy or participate in the ELCA study on racism. Now you’re reexamining your whole life, all your thinking. It is hard and liberating.

Some disruptions are unholy – not of God: the cancer diagnosis, a global pandemic, the accident, the betrayal, the earthquake, mass shootings.

And sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference. The disruption in Joseph’s life is very holy, very much caused by God. Yet it’s hard for Joseph to see that at first. We’re told that “Joseph is a righteous man, which is to say a man devoted to God and concerned with clean, ethical living.” 

As author Debie Thomas puts it, “We can assume this is not a guy who likes to make waves, or draw attention, or get too close to controversy. He wants an orderly life. He’s honest and hard- working. He follows the rules. He practices justice and fairness, and all he wants in exchange is a normal, uncomplicated life. “ 

But that’s not what happens. Instead, Joseph gets some very disruptive news. His fiancée is pregnant. He knows for sure that he is not the father, and there are no good options. If he draws attention to Mary’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy, she might be stoned to death. If he dismisses her quietly, how will she support herself? If he marries her, then her son will become his heir, first born in his household. He’ll be tainted by scandal, and by Mary’s strange, and maybe blasphemous claim, that the baby’s dad is somehow God.  

As if things weren’t complicated enough, Joseph receives word in a dream that this is all of God and that he, Joseph, has an important role to play. God calls him to take an active role in this whole thing! Debie Thomas describes Joseph’s predicament so well. As she puts it: God calls Joseph, a righteous man with an impeccable reputation, straight into societal shame, scandal, and controversy. God calls him to reorder everything he thinks he knows about justice and goodness, to embrace a mess he has not created, love a woman whose story he doesn’t understand, protect a baby he didn’t father, accept an heir who is not his son. God calls Joseph, a quiet, cautious, status quo kind of guy, to choose what he fears and dreads most: the fraught, the complicated, the suspicious.

No wonder that the angel Gabriel’s first words to Joseph were, “Do not be afraid.” They’re words we also need in our complicated lives. Do not be afraid.  Do not be afraid when God’s work in your life looks alarmingly different than you thought it would. Do not be afraid when God upends your assumptions about what is holy and good, when God calls you to stand alongside the scandalous, the suspected, the shamed, when God asks you to love something or someone more than your own reputation. Do not be afraid to play your part, even when nothing feels clear. The way forward will appear, one step at a time.

Joseph wakes from sleep, takes one step and then another. He marries his pregnant fiancée. He honors the space her body needs to do the holy work of birthing Emmanuel. He claims the child as his own and names him Jesus. Then, later, things get even more complicated. A power hungry, money hungry emperor orders everyone to go home and get counted because he wants more taxes from them – a pretty unholy disruption. But Mary is very pregnant. The journey will be perilous. Bethlehem will be crowded and chaotic. What will they do? One step at a time, the way appears. Every step of the way, Joseph and Mary are accompanied by God who brings life amidst all the disruptions of our lives.

After Jesus is born, another powerful man stirs things up even more. King Herod hears a child has been born King of the Jews. He’s threatened. He’s thirsty for more power. He orders the death of all infants under two years old – a most unholy disruption. How will Joseph protect this newborn child? He has another dream, warning him to take his family and flee to Egypt. Again, one step at a time, accompanied by the holy every step of the way.

Joseph’s life is disrupted mightily many, many times. His dreams and plans, his understandings and assumptions, upended time and time again. Yet through all the chaos and complication, Joseph experiences the good news, the good news that God is with us. He discovers that things don’t need to be in order and perfect for God to show up. Rather, the mess is the place where God is born, the mess is the place where God provides, the mess is where God gives us new life.

Joseph’s story is hard and holy, messy and magnificent. All of our lives are. Your life is hard and holy, messy and magnificent. One step at a time, a way will appear. And you are accompanied every step of the way.

Do not be afraid. Emmanuel is born. God is with us.