A. J. Gordon was the great Baptist pastor of the Clarendon Church in Boston, 
Massachusetts. One day he met a young boy in front of the sanctuary carrying a rusty cage 
in which several birds fluttered nervously. Gordon inquired, "Son, where did you get those birds?" 
The boy replied, "I trapped them out in the field." "What are you going to do with them?" 
"I'm going to play with them, and then I guess I'll just feed them to an old cat we have at home." 
When Gordon offered to buy them, the lad exclaimed, "Mister, you don't want them, 
they're just little old wild birds and can't sing very well." Gordon replied, "I'll give you $2 for the cage 
and the birds." "Okay, it's a deal, but you're making a bad bargain." The exchange was made 
and the boy went away whistling, happy with his shiny coins. Gordon walked around to the back 
of the church property, opened the door of the small wire coop, and let the struggling creatures 
soar into the blue. The next Sunday he took the empty cage into the pulpit and used it 
to illustrate his sermon about Christ's coming to seek and to save the lost -- paying for them 
with His own precious blood. "That boy told me the birds were not songsters," said Gordon, 
"but when I released them and they winged their way heavenward, it seemed to me they were singing, 
'Redeemed, redeemed, redeemed!'"

This is Advent. And the message of these times is the song of those wild birds. 
It's the song sung in every carol this season: Redeemed! It’s the meaning behind every gift given 
under the tree: Redeemed! It's the Word the shepherds heard: Redeemed! It's the assurance Mary received: 
Redeemed! It's the star the Wisemen followed: Redeemed! [Depending on your style 
you might omit the repetition of "Redeemed" at the end of each sentence but allowing it 
at the end of this paragraph.] You and I have been trapped by sin, but Christ has purchased our pardon. 
He who has this hope in his heart will sing, and you know the song: "Redeemed, redeemed, redeemed!"

Will YOU hear the song this season? Will YOU see the signs this Christmas? You can, if you will stand up 
and lift up your heads. It is all around. Don't you know that...

1. Our Redemption Is Written in the Heavens.
2. Our Redemption Is Witnessed on Earth.
3. Our Redemption Is Wrapped in Our Hearts.

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"The scriptural passages read during Advent
make American Christians look to the
future . . .After all evil is still rampant among
us: senseless way, limitless greed, manipulated
prejudice continue to take their toll of human
grief and pain . . .This coming (of Jesus again)
is something to look forward to, and the celebration of the birth of Jesus at the close
of Advent strengthens our faith in that what
happened in the past forms the firm pledge of what will be . . .

" . . .as strange as it may seem to Americans,
the [Lukan] passage is not about the future, but about the present experience 
of the original Lukan audience.  The fact is that there is really
little, if anything at all, about the future in
the Bible . . . we have been enculturated to value
time in terms of the following preferences:
Future first, and if future plans do not work
out, then look to the present, and if that still
does not explain anything, then look to the past.

"But first-century Mediterranean people were
present-oriented in their main value orientation.
Their secondary preference was the past . . . with
the future an extremely weak and unattested
third . . . In pre-industrial peasant societies like
those of Bible times, present time is experienced
time, time covered by the actual experience and witness of living persons.  
Anything falling outside the witness of human beings is simply imaginary;
this is the sphere of the possible . . . this possible
properly belongs to and is known by God." - Bruce Malina

Malina goes on to make a distinction between
future events and 'forthcoming' events.  Our
cultural orientation sees emerging events that
are tied to the present as 'future' or possible.
The present oriented society sees such events
as forthcoming.  He uses the example of a pregnant woman.  
The baby is not future as much as it is forthcoming (it is tied to present
processes, but not yet emerged).

So, for Malina, in Luke 21, Jesus is not foretelling
some future, but emphasizing some of the forthcoming outcomes of the present work 
he has begun in Jerusalem.  For instance, he points
out that the oath 'heaven and earth will pass away'
is a phrase that emphasizes Jesus' word of honor
(truly I say to you), not foretells the future.  Since
ancient Mediterraneans did not believe in the
end of the physical world, Jesus is saying "Even
if heaven and earth were to pass away, which
is quite impossible, it is even more impossible
for my words to pass away."

For Malina, this passage demonstrates (1) Jesus'
confidence in God, that God will honor or exalt
him in the face of what will happen in Jerusalem;
(2) those who trust in God and God's sending
of Jesus will not be disappointed, for God is
worthy of such trust; (3) that while that generation
did not see Jesus' coming again, we can live in
Jesus' word of honor, because his words have
not passed away, but dwell in us.  In the power
of the resurrection, God did exalt Jesus as the
Messiah, vindicating the trust Jesus had, 
as well as the faith and trust we are called to have.

Because the future belongs to God alone, like
those first century Mediterraneans, we are called
to be present-oriented as we live out faith and trust.

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"Behold, you come. And Your coming is neither past nor future, 
but the present, which has only to reach its fulfilment. 
Now is is still the one single hour of Your Advent,
at the end of which we too shall have found out 
that You have already come.

O God who is to come, grant me the grace to live now, 
in the hour of Your Advent,
in such a way that I may merit to live in your forever, 
in the blissful hour of Your Eternity." - Karl Rahner

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What anxious people need more than anything is peace, especially peace of mind. 
On Black Friday I went into a Fossil store that sells watches. The store was crowded 
and I could barely make my way to the counter. I was on a mission. I had a fossil watch 
that needed a battery. I was certain that the last thing any clerk wanted to do 
on the busiest shopping day of the year was to install a new battery in a watch. 
Much to my surprise the man said he would be glad to put in a new battery. 
I could leave it and pick it up later. When I came back, again much to my surprise, 
he only charged me $5. In the midst of all that craziness I experienced the reality 
that life goes on and the simplest of things continue in spite of all the craziness. 
I gratefully left the store, watch in hand, ticking along, marking time for years to come. 
I felt a sense of peace that God is still in the midst of all the chaos.

What this all says to me is that no matter how anxious the times we live in, God is not far away. 
The problem is that we are so afraid we miss God’s presence. We let those who use scare tactics 
mislead us. We allow doom and darkness to dominate our lives rather than hope and light. 
Jesus is telling us that “to understand the world’s troubles as omens of doom is to misread them. 
The world’s tribulations and our personal trials can be understood as reasons 
for us to remain faithful, hopeful and optimistic.” (Homiletics, December, 2006, pg. 33)

(by Keith Wagner from Hope for the Overwhelmed)

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When Eisenhower was president of the United States, he once visited Denver. 
His attention was called to a letter in the local newspaper saying that a six-year-old boy 
dying with cancer expressed a wish to see the president. 
One Sunday morning a black limousine pulled up in front of the boy's house. 
Ike stepped out of his car and knocked on the front door. The father, Donald Haley, 
opened the door wearing faded jeans, an old shirt, and a day's old beard. 
Standing behind him was the boy. Ike said, "Paul, I understand you want to see me. 
Glad to see you." Then he took the boy to the limousine to show it to him, shook hands, 
and left. The family and neighbors talked about the President's visit for a long time 
before the father always remembered it with regret because of the way he was dressed. 
He lamented, "What a way to meet the President of the United States." 
If we keep in fellowship with God through prayer, we will keep ourselves spiritually dressed 
for Christ's coming at any time.

(by John R. Brokhoff from Wrinkled Wrappings, CSS Publishing Company)

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Virginia Owens in her book, And The Trees Clap Their Hands, suggests that we lose 
the wonder of it all, because along the way everything becomes "merely." 
Things are "merely" stars, sunset, rain, flowers, and mountains. 
Their connection with God's creation is lost. During this Advent season many things 
are just "merely." It becomes "merely" Bethlehem, a stable, a birth -- 
we have no feeling of wonder or mystery. That is what familiarity can do to us over the years.

Owens goes on to say that it is this "merely" quality of things that leads to crime. It is "merely" 
a thing -- I'll take it. It is "merely" an object -- I'll destroy it. It is this "merely" quality of things 
and life that leads to war. We shall lose "merely" a few thousand men, but it will be worth it. 
Within the Advent narrative nothing is "merely." Things are not "merely" things, 
but are part of God's grand design. Common things, such as motherhood, a birth, a child, 
now have new meaning. This is not "merely" the world, but a world that is charged 
with the beauty and grandeur of God's design. It is a world so loved by God 
that God gave his only Son. What is so great about the Advent season 
is that everything appears charged with the beauty and grandeur of God.

(by John A. Stroman from God's Downward Mobility, CSS Publishing)

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Neill Hamilton, who taught at Drew University for many years, once observed how people 
in our time lose hope for the future. It happens whenever we let our culture call the shots 
on how the world is going to end. At this stage of technological advancement, 
the only way the culture can make sense of the future is through the picture of everything 
blowing up in a nuclear holocaust. The world cannot know what we know, that everything 
has changed in the death and resurrection of Jesus, that the same Christ is coming 
to judge the world and give birth to a new creation. And so, people lose hope. 
As Hamilton puts it: This substitution of an image of nuclear holocaust for the coming of Christ 
is a parable of what happens to Christians when they cease to believe in their own 
eschatological heritage. The culture supplies its own images for the end when we default 
by ceasing to believe in biblical images of God's triumph at the end.

The good news of the gospel is this: when all is said and done, God is going to win.

(by William G. Carter from No Box Seats in the Kingdom, CSS Publishing)

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In the Peanuts comic strip, Linus and Lucy are standing at the window 
looking out at the rain falling. Lucy says to Linus, "Boy, look at it rain...
What if it floods the earth?" Linus, the resident biblical scholar for the Peanuts, 
answers, "It will never do that...in the ninth chapter of Genesis, 
God promised Noah that would never happen again, and the sign of the promise 
is the rainbow." With a smile on her face, Lucy replies, 
"Linus, you've taken a great load off my mind." To which Linus responds, 
"Sound theology has a way of doing that."

(by Charles Schultz, Peanuts, adapted by David E. Leininger)

---

During his 1960 presidential campaign, John F. Kennedy often closed his speeches 
with the story of Colonel Davenport, the Speaker of the Connecticut House of Representatives:   
On May 19th, 1780 the sky of Hartford darkened ominously, and some of the representatives, 
glancing out the windows, feared the end was at hand. Quelling a clamor for immediate adjournment, 
Davenport rose and said, "The Day of Judgment is either approaching or it is not. If it is not, 
there is no cause for adjournment. If it is, I choose to be found doing my duty. 
Therefore, I wish that candles be brought." Rather than fearing what is to come, 
we are to be faithful till Christ returns. Instead of fearing the dark, we're to be lights as we watch and wait.

(by Harry Heintz)

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Maybe you've heard the story of the little boy who decided to write a letter to God 
one Christmas. He started out by writing: "Dear God, I've been a really good boy this year." 
Unfortunately, he remembered that God was all knowing and all seeing 
and he decided that he couldn't lie to God. So, he crumpled up that letter and started over. 
This time he wrote: "Dear God, I know I haven't done everything I should have, 
but I really tried to be good." He stopped and crumpled up that letter, too. 
It was obvious that he was struggling with what to write to God.

As he sat there thinking he looked up and saw his mother's favorite piece of sculpture 
on the mantel. It was a beautiful rendition of the Madonna, the mother of Christ. 
The boy perked up and ran out of the room. He came back with a towel and a shoebox. 
He walked over, carefully picked up the Madonna, gently wrapped it in the towel, 
carefully put it in the shoebox and then hid it in the closet. He immediately went back 
to the table and wrote: "Dear God, if you ever want to see your mother again . . ."

It's time the Church took back Christmas. And we do. Every year we take it back 
and bring back the meaning and the purpose. The world tries to hold it for ransom each year, 
with its multiplicity of gadgets and this year's list of must have toys; 
the world tries to make demands and hold Christmas for ransom but it never works. 
The birth of the Christ child is just too powerful, even for Wall Street. 
The sight and the sounds and the remembrance of this child born so long ago changes 
all the rules. His very presence makes the glitter of our Christmas presents pale in comparison.

(by Billy D. Strayhorn from Stay on Your Toes)

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As some of you know, Fiorello LaGuardia was mayor of New York during the Depression, 
and he was quite a character. He would ride the city fire trucks, take entire orphanages 
to baseball games and whenever the city newspapers went on strike, he would get on the radio 
and read the Sunday "funnies" to the children.

At any rate, one bitter cold winter's night in 1935, Mayor LaGuardia turned up in a night court 
that served the poorest ward in the city, dismissed the judge for the evening 
and took over the bench himself. After he heard a few cases, a tattered old woman 
was brought before him, accused of stealing a loaf of bread.

She told LaGuardia that her daughter's husband had deserted her, 
her daughter was sick and her grandchildren were starving. But the shopkeeper, 
from whom the bread was stolen, insisted on pressing charges. 
"My store is in a very bad neighborhood, your honor," he said. 
"She's got to be punished in order to teach other people a lesson."

The mayor sighed. He turned to the old woman and said, "I've got to punish you," 
he said. "The law makes no exception - ten dollars or ten days in jail."

But even as he spoke, LaGuardia was reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ten dollar bill. 
"Here is the woman's fine," he said, "and furthermore, I'm going to fine everyone in this court room 
fifty cents for living in a city where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. 
Mr. Baliff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant."

The following day, the New York Times reported that $47.50 was turned over to the bewildered old woman. 
It was given by the red-faced store owner, some seventy petty criminals, 
people with traffic violations and city policemen - and they all gave their mayor a standing ovation 
as they handed over their money.

That's how it will be with God's world. Just when it seems that all hope is lost, 
and goodness and mercy shall never win, the Great Judge will come to set things right, 
deciding for the hungry and the meek of the earth. Yes, there is also an Advent promise 
for the nations of the world in perplexity and distress: "Look up and raise your heads, 
because your redemption is drawing near."
 
(by Erskine White from Together in Christ, CSS Publishing Company)

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A bit of a contrast, isn't it? The sweet strains of "Away in a Manger" followed by 
"...distress among nations...the roaring of the sea...People will faint from fear and foreboding...
the powers of the heavens will be shaken." Ho, ho, ho! Where is Santa when we need him? 
So why in the world would the church choose a Gospel lesson such as this to begin Advent 
and our preparation for the coming of the Christ child?

Good reason. The sad truth that all of us who are old enough knows is we do not live 
in a "Santa Claus" world. Children's visions of sugar plums are washed away with the hot tears 
of grown-up disappointment and despair. Disease and death are constant companions. 
The fear and foreboding of which Jesus spoke greet us at every turn. 
Somehow we need to be reminded that this misery is not the end of the story.

(by David E. Leininger from Eyes Up!)

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Unfortunately, our gospel lesson doesn't at first seem to instill us with any sense of hope at all. 
In fact, after reading this passage, we can be overwhelmed with a sense of hopelessness. 
This passage sounds a bit like the one we heard two Sundays ago, 
only this one has more doom and gloom, more destruction, more chaos and catastrophe. 
We hear of these mysterious signs in the sun, moon and stars. There are images of people fainting. 
Heaven and earth pass away, there is talk of a trap, and our hope for escape, 
and by the end of the reading, it seems the walls are closing in on us.

And yet, in the midst of the chaos of this reading, if you look closely enough, calmly enough, 
there are some words of hope in the midst of the confusion. Jesus says, 
"when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, 
because your redemption is drawing near . . . when you see these things taking place, 
you know that the kingdom of God is near." He speaks of fig trees, 
an image which may not communicate much to us, but his hearers in that time knew 
that the fig tree was a symbol of life out of death, a symbol of the hope 
that comes after the winter, the hope of new birth.

(by Beth Quick from Ready or Not)

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We are not a post-war generation,
but a pre-peace generation.
Jesus is coming.

Corrie ten Boom

---

Christ designed that the day of his coming
should be hid from us,
that being in suspense,
we might be as it were upon the watch.

Martin Luther

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The primitive church thought more about the Second Coming of Jesus Christ
than about death or about heaven.
The early Christians were looking
not for a cleft in the ground called a grave,
but for a cleavage in the sky called Glory.
They were watching not for the "undertaker"
but for the "Uppertaker."

Alexander Maclaren

---

On being told that the end of the world was coming, Ralph Waldo Emerson replied, 
"The end of the world will not affect me; I can live without it."

---

The immense step from the Babe at Bethlehem
to the living, reigning triumphant Lord Jesus,
returning to earth for his own people --
that is the glorious truth proclaimed throughout Scripture.
As the bells ring out the joys of Christmas,
may we also be alert for the final trumpet that will announce his return,
when we shall always be with him.

Alan Redpath

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Our text concludes with the counsel, "When these things come to pass, stand up and lift up your heads, 
for your redemption is drawing near." That's been the experience of Christians for all these years. 
Whether they are in exodus, or in exile, we are not alone. 

Our four year old grandson has provided me a wonderful illustration of this. 
His mother was going to go away for a couple of days. The night before she left, 
as she was in the two boys' room to hear their prayers, she told them she was going to go away, 
and asked if in their prayers they would like to ask God to protect her on her journey. 

Jesse, the six year old, thought not. But Luke, the four year old, prayed this prayer: 
"Dear God, if buffaloes or bears, or other mean animals, come near mommy, 
can you handle it? If you can't, just call on Jesus." 

Luke attends a Nazarene preschool. I suspect that is where he got he got that accent. 
But the words are universally Christian. There is a new covenant now, a new promise, 
since Christmas, that he will be with us, "Lo, I am with you always till the end of the age." 
That's our hope. There is a way of living with that hope. It is found in two words 
that are always associated with Advent: wait, and watch. 

(by Mark Trotter from Collected Sermons, CSS Publishing Company, Inc.)

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C. S. Lewis said that when the author appears on the stage, you know the play is over. 
This is how he understands the doctrine of the Second Coming of our Lord. 
It means that he who has begun a good work will bring it to the best conclusion of which he is capable. 
After all, no one has ever claimed that this planet earth was intended to exist forever. 
In what is called by scientists "the second law of thermodynamics," 
it is clearly predicted that the energy supply of this planet will eventually come to an end, 
which means that a conclusion of life as we know it here is inevitable. 
The concept of the Second Coming merely affirms that such a conclusion will be purposeful. 
The drama of history is not going to just fizzle out or end in a whimper! 
It is going to come to the kind of climax that he who conceived the drama wants for it. 

(by Gary L. Carver and Tom M. Garrison from Sermons for Sundays in Advent, Christmas 
and Epiphany: Building a Victorious Life, CSS Publishing Company, Inc.)

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