Advent Sermon: Service of Light, Immanuel, 3^rd December 2000

Pregnant Christians

Luke 1: 26-38

Isaiah 40:1-8

I don't know if all of you know this but I was actually born in Victoria hospital. It used to be a maternity hospital but is now as you know a hospital for patients with mental illness. Well, the other month I went in there to meet someone and share communion with her. As I went in to see her I told her that this was the first time I had been back to the hospital in 32 years. The last time I was there I was being born. As I went into this woman's cubicle someone noticed me going in from another cubicle and started shouting "Come out, you so and so! Come out, you so and so!" At least, she didn't call me “you so and so” but suffice it to say she cast doubt on the origins of my parentage. Anyway, this shouting went on all through our communion, which made quite an interesting backdrop. As I was talking later to a friend of mine, he told me what was really going on: the woman was obviously reliving my birth experience.

Today we read of a 13 year old girl being told she will become pregnant. I know talking about pregnancy can be a sensitive area for some of us, but I want to use the idea of pregnancy and childbirth to explore what advent is about this evening. After all, can there be a greater journey from darkness to light than that of being born? So the question we must ask ourselves this evening is: are we pregnant Christians? That may sound like a question for the women only, but looking at the waistlines of some of us men perhaps it is not so unlikely. It is not such a ridiculous suggestion. Paul writes in Romans that the whole of creation is groaning with the pains of childbirth. We ourselves know the agony and the ecstasy of waiting for God's new world. And he says it is like groaning for a new child to be born.

So what are we pregnant with at advent? The baby we carry deep inside us is one of hope. A child of hope. There is little hope for the future out there, but we are people of the future, we are people who believe that when the darkness is at its darkest we can see the stars shine most brightly. Rabbi Hugo Gryn told the story of the time in 1944 when he was in a concentration camp in Germany called “Lieberose”. It was cold and winter, and Hugo, his father (who was in the camp with him) and the other prisoners were very hungry because they were given little food. One evening his father brought out a little clay shaped bowl, which had been filled with his precious margarine ration, which he had melted. He laid a wick in the bowl. He announced that it was the eve of Chanukah. Before his father could recite that blessing, Hugo protested at this waste of food. His father looked at him-and then at the lamp-and finally said: "You and I have seen that it is possible to live up to three weeks without food. We once lived almost three days without water; but you cannot live properly for three minutes without hope."

We are people pregnant with hope. Hope that things won't always be this way. Just as the prophet Isaiah announced to the exiled people of Israel that their slavery was over, that a new land was to be found, that God was to come in glory to them, we wait for the day when the world will become the place of God and people being together, with no pain, no crying, no death. Hope that we will see Jesus face to face, not as a baby lying in straw, but coming from Heaven to earth with stars blazing in his wake.

And as an ecumenical parish we are hoping for a new church. If there is one thing we can say about the church in the West, it is that it is dying. 53,000 people are leaving the church every week in the West, and not coming back. I don’t know how full a service like this would have been twenty years ago. And we are congregations of above average age. Traditional Christendom, and the role that the institutional church has had in societies, is disappearing. Non committed belonging to the body of Christ is a dead concept.

Henri Nouwen writes this: “There was a time, not long ago, when we felt like captains running our own ships with a great sense of power and self-confidence. Now we are standing in the way. That is our lonely position: We are powerless, on the side, liked maybe by a few crew members who swab the decks and goof off to drink a beer with us, but not taken very seriously when the weather is fine.” But if there is another thing we can say about the church in the West it is that it is coming alive. It is coming alive where we have the courage to face the future with God, and hold onto his promise. Groups of people wanting to follow Christ and to be committed to each other, and to relate their faith to the world around them are springing up in new ways all over the West. And we can be part of it. I don't believe that when I retire in 30 years or so that church will be the same as it is now. Do you? We are experiencing the birth of something new. We are midwives in God's purposes for his church.

So what does it mean for us to be pregnant Christians? What does the coming of our hope do to us? Well, first it means joy and anticipation. Gabriel said “Greetings favoured one. You are blessed, God has shown you his love.” There is a future to be looked forward to. A new life is coming. You are beautiful inside and out, as it says in the “Message”. Mary recognised the gift that was within her and it changed her and made her sing a song of praise. When we anticipate the truth of God’s new world which is to come, let it make us beautiful inside and out. “Greetings, Old Town, my favoured one. You are beautiful inside and out.” Let Advent and its promise made us bloom, make our cheeks flush. Let us live in this world as if it has a marvellous future. As if we can already see what God is going to do when the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all shall see it together. Pregnancy, waiting, is a time of joy. And as an ecumenical parish, we can be pregnant with hope for each other. The real hope of the future can help us break out of the despondency that affected someone like Ted.

By the time Ted arrived at the football game, the first
quarter was almost over. "Why are you so late?" his friend
asked.
"I had to toss a coin to decide between going to church
and coming to the game."
"How long could that have taken you?"
"Well, I had to toss it 14 times."

We can be tempted to lose the sense of joy about belonging to the body of Christ. If we take our eyes off the child that is to come and the promise of the future, being pregnant Christians can seem like a bit of a chore. Do we look back, do we get hung up on the problems of the present, or are we full of hope for the future? Do we look at each other and see potential for new birth? We are people of the future, of God's future, of God's promised future. We face a lot of opportunities here in Old town, and a lot of challenges. But God can bring something new to birth if we are able to fix our eyes on the future together, and to be full of joy at the hope he has placed within us.

But pregnancy also brings with it the need to get ready. As soon as Ruth went into labour pains for our first child I quickly painted his room, put up the cot, went out and bought some clothes, bought bottles, baby food, read a few books about childbirth and packed together a bag for the hospital and dashed out of the door. It was a busy couple of hours. Well if you believe that then you'll believe anything. Whoever heard of up parents who hadn't sort of all those things months before the event? We had everything bought and ready months before our first child arrived. We had a list of about 40 items we would need for the birth of our child John. Towels, special music we had chosen for the delivery room, a mirror so Ruth could see what was going on, special things for her to nibble on - coal, grass etc. You name it, we had it. In the event he arrived four weeks early and we hadn't even decided on his name. At least Mary knew his name in advance! We didn't have time to pick up the hospital bag. When you have the hope of a future you get ready for it. We changed our house around, we got it in order, we changed our routines and our rhythms of life to fit in with the new arrival.

Isaiah was told to comfort God’s people-things were going to be different, God was going to restore them. Where they had felt weak and insignificant, they would again feel God strengthening them. A new thing would be born in history. But this comfort was not something that would lull them to sleep and apathy. God didn't say "make my people comfortable". He told them to prepare. Being comforted by God's promise and preparing for it goes hand in hand. “Every valley shall be lifted up and every mountain shall be brought low,” said the prophet Isaiah. Then God would be able to come. Ouch! That is quite a radical rearrangement of things. To get ready for God, or to get ready for God's new church, he is saying his people need to change the landscape completely. So what needs to be brought up and laid low in our lives. Are our hearts and lives ready to be a highway for God? Will Jesus find us getting his world ready for his arrival-campaigning for justice, for a clean environment, bringing life to his creation where there is decay? Advent is a time for self examination and change.

And how can we get ready for the future as an ecumenical parish? What do we need to do to create a highway for God's future among us? We are at a time of change. We have just had our review, and there is some talk about how we are going to arrange our buildings and our facilities for the future. The question is: can we be brave enough to get ready for the new church? Can we ask ourselves the questions about our life that need to be asked? Can we be brave enough to suggest that some of the things which have kept our ecumenical parish going, and which may even be dear to some of us, need to be re-examined in the light of the priorities of the next 30 years. How much of our ecumenical activity releases energy among us for mission, for reaching out, and how much of it draws us away from the task of being a missionary people together in this parish? We are afraid of hurting each other, and that is good, but there is a level of politeness which can be more about avoiding reality than taking each other seriously. When you are about to give birth you need to be focused on what is really important, what will really bring the baby to life. If the glory of the Lord is really to be seen in our life in Old Town then we may need to be brave enough to lift up valleys and bring down mountains. And the other thing we will need for the future is trust. When you have a baby, it is important that the mother trusts the midwives. If we are to be midwives in bringing about a church fit for the future then we need trust most of all.

Two young church members were going door to door.

They knocked on the door of a woman who was not happy to see them. She told them in no uncertain terms that she did not want to hear their message and slammed the door in their faces.

To her surprise, however, the door did not close and, in fact, bounced back open. She tried again, really put her back into it, and slammed the door again with the same result -- the door bounced back open.

Convinced rude young people were rudely sticking their foot in the door, she reared back to give it a slam that would teach them a lesson, when one of them said, "Ma'am, before you do that again, you really should move your cat."

The last and probably most common experience of childbirth: Pain. New things cannot be born without a certain amount of it, although as a man I have never quite understood the fuss that is made. We ourselves cannot be disciples of Christ without discipline, struggle or determination. Sometimes it is difficult to hang on and to hope for change and the return of Christ, or for our church to be what we dream it could be. God's timing and purpose do not always seem to accord with ours. A man is trying to understand the nature of God and asked him: "God, how long is a million years to you?"

God answered: "A million years is like a minute."

Then the man asked: "God, how much is a million dollars to you?"

And God replied: "A million dollars is like a penny."

Finally the man asked, "God, could you give me a penny?"

And God says, "In a minute."

We may want it now, we may want to see God’s glory filling the earth now, but we know resurrection always comes after the cross. The child comes after labour. We will not see a new church being born which is fit for the future if we are not able to deal with the pain of letting go of some things and struggling to grasp hold of others. Pregnancy can be a time of growth and joy-but it can also bring sickness, backache, bad moods and headaches. All around us we see God's New World beginning to be established in a world of decay, pain, and strife. The path to the future will not necessarily be an easy one. Repentance and change can hurt. But our model is Mary, the teenager, who saw a hope that was to come and submitted to God: “I am your servant. Let it be to me according to your word. Let it be to our church according to God's word. And let it be in the way we live and work in his world according to God's word.

Pregnancy can seem like a long time. It can get tiresome, we can feel like giving up. Mary couldn't believe that she would really see her child being born. We may be can't believe that God will ever return to his creation and put it right and us right. We maybe can't even believe that the Church can be a different place – a thriving and growing child once again. But Gabriel tells Mary nothing will be impossible for God. We prepare for the future because God has promised it, not because we can bring it about. As you drive into Corston near Malmesbury you will see a light on in a window. It is never off day or night. Margaret Williams asked a friend of hers why it is always on. She was told that an old woman had told her son just before he went off to war that she would leave it on until he returned. He never came back. The old woman died, but left it in the deeds to the property that as a condition of ownership the new occupants had to keep it lit. And so they have honoured her hope, waiting for the son to return. Christians who are pregnant with hope know the joy of what is to come, prepare for a new future, and face the pain of the wait and the birth in the knowledge of what is promised. They keep the light on for every generation.

Back to sermon index