My Lord, what a morning;
my Lord, what a morning;
oh, my Lord, what a morning,
when the stars begin to fall.
You will hear the trumpet sound,
to wake the nations underground,
looking to my God's right hand,
when the stars begin to fall
Last Sunday's gospel reading told of Jesus and the disciples in Jerusalem, at the temple. The disciples, looking at this giant, shining, indestructible hulk of a building, exclaim "What large stones and what large buildings!"
And Jesus, sober in spirit, says "Not one stone will be left upon another. All will be thrown down."
There is much being thrown down around us these days. The news breaks into our daily routines to tell us of stars falling from the sky, buildings crumbling, wars, rumors of wars, terror attacks, hate crimes, bombs, violence. Not one stone will be left upon another. This feels like a declaration and a prediction, a description of a present reality and a prescription of doom for the future.
As the news of the terrorist attacks in Paris began flooding the media, all that once seemed safe began to seem fragile. Gone were my former assumptions about the weight of good outweighing and overpowering the forces of evil. Far from cynicism, I felt these despairing emotions out of fear.
I began to think that perhaps there is no such thing as safety. That there is no guaranteed triumph of the good (at least on this side of the kingdom of God). I started to think about what sort of resilient and defiant faith it might take to continue to cling to hope in God's justice and peace. I started to think that perhaps faith is truest and most urgent precisely when the stones and stars begin to fall.
The literal and metaphorical earthquakes that shake down our foundations are also the earthquakes that shake up our souls and spirits.
Jesus speaks truth, that all will topple down, even the things that we thought were the most secure. This is a fearful truth. It stabs our hearts with the pain of knowing that everything is fragile, and that all things will have an end, and that life itself is always interrupted by death.
The stones of this world are not eternal. Modern medicine does not make us immortal. The sun will one day burn out.
But this upcoming Sunday, when we celebrate Christ the King Sunday, sometimes called Reign of Christ Sunday, we will be reminded again that one of the distinct characteristics of Christ's reign is that it will be eternal. All the kingdoms of this world will pass away. All the rulers of this world will come to their ends. But Christ stands forever. And so all the evils of this world, all the wars, all the violence and fear - these things will crumble. And once all has passed away, we will find life. And not just life, but eternal life, eternal peace, eternal reconciliation, led by an eternal Christ, son of the God who speaks of himself as the alpha and omega, beginning and end.
Yes, everything will fall. Yes, it is scary. Yes, it would be simple to fall into despair.
But we have an alternative. It is to cling to that which is truly eternal: the goodness of God. It is to live as people who are recklessly hopeful. It is to do want we can to live out our days seeking the good.
There are plenty of wars and rumors of wars. We certainly don't need to go looking for them. We don't need to seek out the bad in one another or seek out conflict and controversy where there isn't any, even though it is in our human nature to do so. We need to keep looking for the good, to keep seeking the unshakable foundation that we find in Christ, who has ultimately defeated death, who, though the temple of his body has been destroyed, has rebuilt that temple in three days, rising from the dead, moving away the stone from the tomb, standing as the one truly unshakable thing in this universe.
Let the stars fall where they may.
Let the stones fall.
Let the earth shake and the seas tremble.
For Christ is coming soon. This is what Advent is all about. Trusting that:
Light will vanquish darkness.
Life will conquer death.
Hope will wash away despair.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
Turn the world aright.
Your kingdom come.
Your will be done.
For yours is the kingdom, the power, the glory -
forever and ever.
Amen.
my Lord, what a morning;
oh, my Lord, what a morning,
when the stars begin to fall.
You will hear the trumpet sound,
to wake the nations underground,
looking to my God's right hand,
when the stars begin to fall
Last Sunday's gospel reading told of Jesus and the disciples in Jerusalem, at the temple. The disciples, looking at this giant, shining, indestructible hulk of a building, exclaim "What large stones and what large buildings!"
And Jesus, sober in spirit, says "Not one stone will be left upon another. All will be thrown down."
There is much being thrown down around us these days. The news breaks into our daily routines to tell us of stars falling from the sky, buildings crumbling, wars, rumors of wars, terror attacks, hate crimes, bombs, violence. Not one stone will be left upon another. This feels like a declaration and a prediction, a description of a present reality and a prescription of doom for the future.
As the news of the terrorist attacks in Paris began flooding the media, all that once seemed safe began to seem fragile. Gone were my former assumptions about the weight of good outweighing and overpowering the forces of evil. Far from cynicism, I felt these despairing emotions out of fear.
I began to think that perhaps there is no such thing as safety. That there is no guaranteed triumph of the good (at least on this side of the kingdom of God). I started to think about what sort of resilient and defiant faith it might take to continue to cling to hope in God's justice and peace. I started to think that perhaps faith is truest and most urgent precisely when the stones and stars begin to fall.
The literal and metaphorical earthquakes that shake down our foundations are also the earthquakes that shake up our souls and spirits.
Jesus speaks truth, that all will topple down, even the things that we thought were the most secure. This is a fearful truth. It stabs our hearts with the pain of knowing that everything is fragile, and that all things will have an end, and that life itself is always interrupted by death.
The stones of this world are not eternal. Modern medicine does not make us immortal. The sun will one day burn out.
But this upcoming Sunday, when we celebrate Christ the King Sunday, sometimes called Reign of Christ Sunday, we will be reminded again that one of the distinct characteristics of Christ's reign is that it will be eternal. All the kingdoms of this world will pass away. All the rulers of this world will come to their ends. But Christ stands forever. And so all the evils of this world, all the wars, all the violence and fear - these things will crumble. And once all has passed away, we will find life. And not just life, but eternal life, eternal peace, eternal reconciliation, led by an eternal Christ, son of the God who speaks of himself as the alpha and omega, beginning and end.
Yes, everything will fall. Yes, it is scary. Yes, it would be simple to fall into despair.
But we have an alternative. It is to cling to that which is truly eternal: the goodness of God. It is to live as people who are recklessly hopeful. It is to do want we can to live out our days seeking the good.
There are plenty of wars and rumors of wars. We certainly don't need to go looking for them. We don't need to seek out the bad in one another or seek out conflict and controversy where there isn't any, even though it is in our human nature to do so. We need to keep looking for the good, to keep seeking the unshakable foundation that we find in Christ, who has ultimately defeated death, who, though the temple of his body has been destroyed, has rebuilt that temple in three days, rising from the dead, moving away the stone from the tomb, standing as the one truly unshakable thing in this universe.
Let the stars fall where they may.
Let the stones fall.
Let the earth shake and the seas tremble.
For Christ is coming soon. This is what Advent is all about. Trusting that:
Light will vanquish darkness.
Life will conquer death.
Hope will wash away despair.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
Turn the world aright.
Your kingdom come.
Your will be done.
For yours is the kingdom, the power, the glory -
forever and ever.
Amen.