Which Armor Will We Wear?
Children's sermon
Illustration
Preaching
Sermon
Worship
Object:
In Romans, Paul admonishes us to "lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light" (Romans 13:12b). As Paul Bresnahan writes in this week's Immediate Word article, our typical ideas of protective armor are considerably more substantial than mere "light," especially considering the violent and volatile nature of the world in which we live. What is the apostle Paul saying here? What is the light? Is there a power in light that we cannot see? As we approach Advent, what power does light wield in our lives? Thom Shuman writes Another View this week. We have also included illustrations, a worship service, and a children's sermon.
Which Armor Will We Wear?
Paul Bresnahan
The church tells us to put on the armor of light now in the time of this mortal life. Frankly, it does not sound like a very substantial armor. Light cannot stop bullets or protect us from roadside bombs. If I were serving in Iraq right now, I'd want more than light to protect me. I'd want something more substantial. I'd want the latest and greatest in body armor and Humvees available. Give me the best the army has to offer before you send me out on patrol.
To tell you the truth, the armor of light doesn't sound all that resilient against the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" stateside either! When I think of the brutal realities of crime, unemployment, and health problems, I want a whole lot more than just "light" to help me out.
And when I think of the things my kids can get into the drugs, the sex, and the deadly chemistry of alcohol and fast cars, I find myself almost scoffing at the notion of the "light" being of any practical help when the proverbial "rubber hits the road."
Yet when we come toward the darkest time of the year the scripture points us in the direction of "The light." The church tells us to put on the armor of light now in the time of this mortal life. I wonder if we can find a convincing way to see how this "light" has any real substance to it? There must be something to it... we've been turning to the "light" for 2,000 years now. Thus on the first Sunday of Advent, let's light a candle and see just how much armor it really does provide.
THE WORLD
The world we live in is a very practical place. We want to see what we're getting. We want it to be palpable and substantial. We are a people who rightly asked what the proverbial "old lady" asked some years ago on the Wendy's commercial, "Where's the beef?"
We are almost slavishly practical, and we want to see the claims people make backed up by fact. We have all become folks from the "show me" state.
We are a nation that loves guns: the armor we seem to be enamored with these days. There are millions of them throughout our country, and if any politician has the temerity to raise a question as to the wisdom of allowing gun ownership to go unchecked, he/she does so at the risk of his/her own political life. I'm sure not going to question that!
The armor of God just doesn't sound very substantial in so many ways.
THE WORD
There is a vision in the Old Testament of a lion sharing its resting place with a lamb and other natural enemies being at peace with one another (Isaiah 11:6-9). The theme continues in today's lesson where God rises to judge between the nations and in response to that, humankind beats spears into pruning hooks and swords into plowshares. In a poetic prolepsis, the prophet then says that nations shall not know war anymore but shall walk in the light of the Lord. What a wish to be hoped for! We still seem a long way from that hope and if it is still part of our vision, then our eyes are sorely out of focus from what God is able to see. Still whenever we read this passage from scripture, it satisfies a deep longing within the human breast.
The epistle too advises us to lay aside the works of darkness and to put on the armor of light. The notion of "putting on the armor of light," while not ubiquitous in scripture, is still and all a powerful image. In Paul's letter to the Ephesians, he develops the idea by encouraging us to put on the whole armor of God. That armor includes fastening the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, for shoes put on the gospel of peace, wearing the helmet of salvation, and taking then the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. What is interesting about the struggle we're armed to contend with in this passage is that we are not given weapons to take on flesh and blood but the real enemies, which are the cosmic powers of this present darkness and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. It appears that within the human heart there is a battle of cosmic significance underway that we can easily miss if we are not aware of its tremendous power.
We are also told that the Son of Man will come at a time when we least expect him. I wonder if we are ready for that great moment. There is a petition in the Old Litany that many Anglicans say during Advent. It asks that we may be spared from dying suddenly and unprepared. Whether this passage is talking about Jesus coming to us at the end of time in any collective sense or just one by one, the same message is layered underneath the gospel proclamation. By casting off the works of darkness and by putting on the armor of light, we then find ourselves prepared to be as Jesus would have us be; his children bathed in the light of the gospel.
CRAFTING THE SERMON
It started the day after Thanksgiving right on cue. Target opened at 4 a.m. in our area. Wal-Mart is open 24/7, Sears and Circuit City have a sparkling and stunning array of specials to lure us in. Thus begins the great annual shopping frenzy of the Western world. The halls are abuzz with the subliminal messages of Christmas music, and we load up our shopping baskets with gifts that many of us really don't need. We may also purchase a little something for someone less fortunate. Then we exchange our gifts on Christmas Day often continuing the frenzy, we eat a very large meal and someone inevitably will say, "Well, that's Christmas for another year." Everyone will chuckle.
As January sets in, many of us will then begin a depression that holds us like ice throughout the rest of winter. Some will seek help from professionals and from the medicine cabinet. Too many will self-medicate.
This is darkness dear friends. It is the inevitable companion of a society that cannot order itself with a little discipline. Liturgical churches don't even play Christmas music until Christmas Eve. Irritated parishioners will complain about that. But for 2,000 years the church has taught that Advent is a time to put on the armor of light. We grasp instead at a quick dose of what will make us happy. But then as soon as we have it, it melts like snow in a clenched fist.
The light teaches us to treat Advent as a season of expectation and waiting, much like an expectant mother might await the birth of her child. Christmas teaches us to greet that child with such joy that it fills our days with the kind of happiness that builds within us as the child grows and learns wonderful new lessons. Epiphany teaches us to make manifest to the whole world that this child is the way to peace, justice, and hope.
This is quite a contrast to the narcissism of a self-indulgent holiday that just serves to depress us. What the church teaches is filled with great joy but not of a temporary tinsel type. This is the real thing! The church has a message that is true and abides and sustains a world that is always flirting with violence and bigotry and hatred. The Holy Child teaches us how to love God and how to love one another. Would that the world could hear the news and put on the armor of light!
In ancient times as now, there are armies all about. An occupation force held the holy land 2,000 years ago. An occupation force holds it now. It was then and is now a land where conflict is armed and human blood especially of the innocent sort too often flows in the stony streets.
It was into that land that a child came to learn the lessons of vulnerability. The child was wrapped in swaddling clothes we're told and a star bathed the child in light from the heavenly realms. So too, early Christians came to their worship on the first day of the week, early in the morning. It had to be very early because it was a workday then, and in some places when they entered the catacombs they put on white robes called Albs. The word "alb" was a Latin word that meant "white." The alb represented their baptism. It was a reminder that they were to "put on" Christ as they would a garment. The clergy wore something even a bit more elaborate and as they placed various articles of clothing, the people were mindful of the armor of God that they wore.
Whatever our liturgical preferences, every Christian is invited to put on the whole armor of God and to walk in the light of the Lord. People who walk in this light transform history. We have seen it time and again.
By walking in the light of the Lord, the early Christians not only survived the fall of the Roman Empire; they became the dominant force in Western culture. When the rest of Europe went dark during the ages that saw learning and culture itself become a shadow of what it once was, it fell to the Celtic monks of Ireland to light the way toward literature, creativity, and hope for a world that had all but lost hope. Then more recently in South Africa, the people sang their freedom songs, one of my favorite being "We are walking in the Light of God."
So what is this light? How much armor does it provide? If we follow the blessed apostle Paul in his teachings to the Christians in Ephesus, the teaching is simple, direct, and comprehensive. "Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God" (Ephesians 6:14-17).
Could it mean that the armor of God is so light a thing as truth, righteousness, the gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit that is the Word of God? If that is so, then the armament God encourages us to wear is the armament of the personhood of Christ himself. That means to say, that if we do "put on" Christ as we would a garment then we would indeed shine as would the light of God.
If we shine like God, there would indeed be peace and justice for all. Is this not only what we hope for as human beings? Is it not also the American credo? How then do we get so far away from being the very light that we were called to be in our biblical credo?
Perhaps we buy into our secular culture a bit too much. Perhaps we sometimes forget to love Advent as a season of expectation just as the church teaches us to do. If we were to do that, we could then burst into joy for the twelve days of Christmas, and then make the joy of Jesus manifest throughout the Epiphany season.
Are we too self-centered to be that sort of Christian, anymore? We never know when Jesus will come back. When he does, I hope that he will find the kind of faith on this earth that shines with the brightness of the armor of God. That armor we'll have to remember is not of the sort that can be manufactured in a munitions factory, but only in the heart and in the imagination of the child of God. We are preparing for the return of Jesus. Jesus is expecting us to be ready.
In this Advent season, we may wish to pray fervently for the wisdom to know what God wants us to wear to protect us from the cosmic powers. I suspect that the apostle Paul is absolutely right when he encourages us to put on the armor of light.
ANOTHER VIEW
Thom Shuman
So once again, we begin our dangerous journey toward Bethlehem. Dangerous, because we are asked to leave those comfortable shadows within which we live and embrace the light that is coming toward us. Dangerous, because we are challenged to quit indulging in all those lifelong habits of quarreling, jealousy, putting down those around us, and living in such a way that others know we respect them, honor them, and love them. Dangerous, because we are asked (no, implored) by God to take all those weapons of mass destruction -- our sharp tongues, our turned backs, our angry looks -- and turn them into whispers of grace, of open and welcoming arms, of smiles that light up all creation.
Besides this, we are asked to let go of our reliance on internet map programs and our car's direction finders, and to find alternative ways to get to Bethlehem. Oh, we could get to the mall with our eyes closed by now, but we are asked to turn in a different direction, and to go down unfamiliar streets, to be willing to get lost (and not worry about it!) as we look for the One who is coming to us. We have no trouble walking down the sidewalks of stress, but God illuminates that shortcut called serenity. We bump our way over the potholes of popularity, but God wants us to turn down the side streets of faithful discipleship, looking for those who are sitting along the curb, their pockets full of poverty and their hearts emptied of hope that we might give them a ride to the kingdom. We easily board the bus that will take us down to the business district with its bright lights flashing "Sale! Buy! Spend!" Yet God would take us by the hand to lead us to the soup kitchens, to the overflowing shelters, to the young couple looking for someone to open their doors, so the expectant woman might bear her child in peace and hope.
The prophet of Advent, Isaiah (2:1-5), tells us that in this season of commercials, consumerism, and consumer debt, God longs to teach us different ways, to instruct us with a word that can transform our very lives, which can give us the wisdom (and the courage) to walk the dangerous streets of the kingdom that will take us straight to Bethlehem.
ILLUSTRATIONS
In the midst of the difficult days in which we're living, we begin our Advent journey today. As we prepare for the coming of the Christ Child, we remember what the apostle Paul wrote to the people of Rome (from chapter 8 of the book of Romans in Eugene Peterson's The Message):
All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it's not only around us; it's within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We're also feeling the birth pangs.... That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don't see that it is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become and the more joyful our expectancy.
* * *
As we enter this Advent season, the days are becoming shorter and shorter, and therefore darker and darker, and we miss the light -- we long for the coming of the light. "It's always darkest before the dawn," the old saying reminds us, and so it is with our Advent journey -- and so it with our lives.
Barbara Jurgensen catches some of this in her poem, "The One Who Comes":
On the longest night
at the darkest hour
in the coldest part of the year...
To the lowliest barn
in the smallest town
in a land drawn tight in fear...
Came a tiny One
to a humble pair
who were far from all held dear...
On the longest night
at the darkest hour
in the coldest part of the year.
In the darkest hour
of the longest night
in the coldest part of our year...
When all hope has fled
and all light gone out
and our hearts are filled with fear...
Bringing hope and strength,
bringing purpose, life,
does the caring One appear...
In the darkest hour
of the longest night
in the coldest part of our year.
-- Barbara Jurgensen, Following You, p. 14
* * *
"Wake, awake, for night is flying,
The watchmen on the heights are crying;
Awake, Jerusalem, at last"
Philipp Nicolai's Advent hymn urges us.
Nicolai wrote this hymn during a very dark time, during the Black Plague in Europe in 1598, when not just thousands but millions around him were dying.
Expecting to die himself, Nicolai composed this majestic hymn and left a note with it saying that he wanted to leave it "as a token of my peaceful, joyful, Christian departure."
Fortunately, the plague passed him by and he lived another ten years. His hymn lives on today, reminding us that it's time to prepare ourselves to meet the Lord, not just for this Advent season but for our whole life.
* * *
There's no one who can say with absolute certainty what light really is. The physicists can describe light and its properties, they can predict its behavior, but its essential nature is still an unfathomable mystery. Yet, each one of us uses light every day, each time we click on an electric switch. We take light for granted.
Yet we all know, from experience, that light has certain useful properties.
It is constant; light can be counted on to do what we expect. The physicists teach that the speed of light is utterly invariable, unchanging, through all the universe.
Light is warm and heartening: the golden glow of a wood fire warms us on a cold day, in a way that has nothing to do with temperature.
We cannot see light itself, in all its purity; we only see it reflected on other things. Those who design lighting for homes and workplaces know the powerful effect of indirect light.
Light is death to darkness, as the author of the famous Psalm 139 confesses to God: ''even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.''
''God is light,'' says the first letter of John, ''and in him there is no darkness at all.''
***
In the lobby of the French cultural affairs office in New York, there is a statue. At first glance, it's a rather unimpressive work of art: a unfinished figure of Cupid, with lower legs missing, both forearms broken off, nose cracked. The statue had come with the Fifth-Avenue mansion when the French government bought it in 1952. The building's architect had picked it up somewhere in Italy, way back in 1905. He thought it was a Roman relic.
One evening in 1995, an art historian from the nearby Metropolitan Museum happened to be walking by, and glanced through the window. She had walked that sidewalk hundreds of times, without ever seeing the statue. That evening, though, was different: the embassy staff was preparing for a party. They had focused bright lights upon the statue of Cupid.
The art expert stopped and peered through the window. For the first time, she studied the little Cupid. Later she got in to see it, and ran her fingers along the chisel-marks in the marble, feeling there the trace of a master's hand. A short while later, she came out with an amazing claim: that this little Cupid is an original Michelangelo.
The art world, has come to recognize that she's probably right. It's not one of the Italian master's finest works: it seems he abandoned it after making a bad mistake in the carving. But, if the theory is correct, it is the only Michelangelo sculpture in all of North America. For more than a century, that little statue has stood in the lobby of that Fifth Avenue building. Yet it was only when the light shone upon it that its true importance was revealed.
That's the role Jesus sets out for us, as his disciples: to reflect back the light of God that shines upon us, so others may truly come to know us -- and, in knowing us, may know him, also.
***
Once there was a grandmother, struggling with a life-threatening illness, who had her little granddaughter with her, one Christmas. The granddaughter was watching her, as she lit a candle and placed it in the window. "Grandma," the little girl asked, "why do we light candles on Christmas?"
"We light candles on Christmas, my dear, to tell the darkness we beg to differ."
***
In a few short weeks, on Christmas Eve, we'll stand in this place holding lighted candles.
You don't have to look very far to find darkness today. Tonight, even here in our community, a child will go to bed hungry. Tonight, in our very town, another child will cry himself to sleep, because Daddy drinks too much, and Mama pays the price for his abuse.
The cells in the county jail will be dark tonight, as a guard throws a master switch. A harsh light bulb will blaze, outside in the corridor, but the warm glow of a candle is unknown in that grim place. Not far away, in a ''bad neighborhood,'' someone is out cruising the streets in a car without headlights, looking for a shadowy figure to sell him a vial of crack.
Darkness never sleeps. It's always open for business. Darkness entices its victims in, with whispers of illicit pleasure, then springs the trap. Darkness has swallowed up many lives, devoured them whole.
Come Christmas Eve, our feeble candle-flames will make no impression on that darkness. Candles don't shed a lot of light, really -- just think back to your last power failure at home. Maybe you had to go rummaging around in the kitchen drawer, until you found that old candle stub, and struck the match -- then you breathed a sigh of relief, even as you inhaled that sulfurous match-odor. Maybe you even sat there and stared at the glowing flame for a moment or two, just to reassure yourself: the darkness was held at bay.
In a power failure, you discover just how many candles you need, to make up for one darkened light bulb -- and that's indoors. Carry your candle outside at night, and hold it up to the starry heavens: you'll discover how utterly insignificant that light seems, how effectively it is swallowed up by darkness.
Yet, still we do it. Still, we light the candles....
***
There's something in each of us that loves darkness more than light. Sin draws us on, entices us into exploring the dark places: within our world, within our very souls. The poet John Milton was very aware of this dark side of our character, and writing about it in these words:
He that has light within his own cleer breast
May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day:
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun;
Himself is his own dungeon.
[''A Mask Presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634,'' lines 380ñ84, The Works of John Milton, vol. 1, part 1, p. 99 (1931).]
At times, we are indeed our own dungeons. Our desires imprison us -- desires for pleasure at any cost, for wealth, for fame, for things to which we are addicted. Outside is the bright midday sun of God's love, but we choose so often to live in the murky gloom of a dungeon cell. It is a cell of our own making. The prison is not locked; it's our choice not to get up, open the door and ascend the stairs into brilliant light.
***
Many are familiar with the well-loved Irish hymn, ''Be Thou My Vision.'' Not so well-known is this stanza from the hymn, which is omitted from many hymnals. It is reminiscent of the famed Celtic Christian poem, ''St. Patrick's Breastplate,'' and also of the round towers that provided refuge to Irish monks at the time of the Viking invasions. The hymn stanza goes like this:
Be Thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight;
Be Thou my armor, and be Thou my might;
Thou my soul's shelter, Thou my high tower;
Raise Thou me heavenward, O power of my power.
WORSHIP RESOURCE
Thom Shuman
Call to Worship
Leader: We don't always know
what time it is,
People: but according to Jesus,
it is time to watch.
Leader: We're not always sure
what we should wear,
People: but according to the Spirit,
we should wear garments of Light.
Leader: We're not always sure
what we should do,
People: But according to God,
we should always seek good
for those around us.
Prayer of the Day
Architect of the kingdom's streets:
you teach us all
we need to know,
if we will but open our hearts,
and listen to yours.
You challenge us
to quit working the night shift
in sin's sweat shops,
and to dance in the light
of Advent joy.
Seeker of our good:
you sneak in
and steal our lives
out of death's tight grasp.
You wander the streets
of our world,
sweeping up our sins,
casting them into
the dustbins of our past.
Holy Spirit,
you are as close to us
as the breath in our lungs:
helping us to treat everyone
with honor and respect;
healing us with serenity
in these days of stress;
taking us by the hand
to walk us home
to the kingdom.
God in Community, Holy in One,
help us to be faithful watchers,
as we pray as Jesus has taught us, saying,
Our Father...
Call to Reconciliation
We don't know when Jesus will return, and
we are not to worry about it. But we do know
when we do wrong, when we hurt people, when
we disappoint God. But God will change our
sins into acts of mercy, and our failures into
faith. Join me as we pray to our God.
Unison Prayer of Confession
In this season of sales, shopping, and stress, God
of Light, we confess how easy it is to slip off your
paths. We can become so focused on having good
times, we forget to take the time to do good for
your people. We slip easily into Santa suits, but
find Jesus Christ an uncomfortable fit for our lives.
We find ourselves strangely jealous over the gifts
others receive, yet have trouble accepting those
gifts of peace and serenity you hand out so freely.
Forgive us, Breath of Salvation. By your mercy,
we can once again walk the streets of your kingdom,
being alert for the signs of your grace and hope in
our midst. Teach us your ways of peace and
reconciliation, that we may truly live as the disciples
of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
(silence is kept)
Assurance of Pardon
Leader: This is the good news: you will be swept away
in the waters of mercy, salvation carrying you
home to God's heart.
People: Peace, serenity, healing, hope - these gifts, and
more, are ours in this Advent season of watching
and waiting. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Great Prayer of Thanksgiving
Leader: May the Lord of Advent be with you.
People: And also with you.
Leader: People of God, lift up your waiting hearts.
People: We lift them to the One
whose heart longs for us.
Leader: People of God, give thanks to the One
who draws near to us.
People: Let us go to God's Table
to offer our thanks and praise.
It is always good and right
to stand in your house of peace
with thanksgiving on our lips,
Holy God.
When chaos threatened to rule,
you raised up creation,
validating it with your Word.
Standing within the gates of Eden,
we were bound firmly together with you,
your love and grace as close
as the breath of the Spirit.
If we had known that sin and death
would come to steal us away from you,
we could have been prepared.
But they swept us away
in the flood of their temptations,
and we didn't know how to resist.
Your prophets were sent forth
to teach us your ways,
but we clung to the fading shadows
of our rebellious lives.
Finally, you sent Jesus to remind us
that it was time to become
your children once again.
Therefore, we come to you,
our songs of thanksgiving
and our prayers for peace
mingling with those of every time and place,:
Sanctus
Holy are you, God who comes to us,
and blessed is Jesus Christ, your Son, our Salvation.
When we seek evil
for those around us,
he takes the time
to teach us to do good.
When we went as far away
from you as we could,
he came to bring redemption
close to our hearts.
When we did not realize
how sin and death
were coming to rob us
of our relationship with you,
he knew it was time
to go to the cross,
to place our feet back on
the streets of the kingdom.
As we remember Immanuel coming to us,
we would keep awake, preparing ourselves
to live out that mystery we call faith:
Memorial Acclamation
In this time of anticipation,
send your Spirit upon the gifts
of the bread and of the cup,
and on those who gather
around the Table of Joy.
Besides this, send your gifts
when we least expect them:
the gift of peace,
that we might turn Humvees
into harvesters of reconciliation;
the gift of hope,
that we might transform weapons
into harps and guitars;
the gift of time,
that we might be prepared
to serve all who come to us
in their brokenness and despair.
Then, when that day and hour come,
and we are gathered with
our sisters and our brothers,
our enemies and our friends,
around the Feast in Heaven,
we will be bound firmly together
for all eternity with you,
walking in your Light,
as we sing forever of
God in Community, Holy in One. Amen.
CHILDREN'S SERMON
Put on your Sunday best
Object: wear really nice clothing for your teaching time
Romans 13:11-14
Have you ever heard the expression that you should wear your "Sunday best"? It used to be that people would save the best clothes they owned for the days they went to church. On the other days of the week, they would wear their regular clothes, but on Sunday they would wear the best they had. Today I'm wearing nice clothes for church. I wanted to dress up, because I wanted you to see what I look like when I'm wearing my Sunday best.
In this morning's lesson, the apostle Paul tells us that the world can be a sad and dark place. It is full of sadness, pain, anger, jealousy, and hatred. Paul tells us that you and I can help share the light and love of Jesus with people. In one verse, he says that we should "put on the Lord Jesus Christ." I wondered what that meant, but then I thought about what it means to put on my Sunday best. I can "put on Jesus" by acting as Jesus did and by loving people in the way he did.
Today is the first Sunday of Advent. It's December again, and it's time to prepare for the baby Jesus to be born. God knew the people of the world needed love, so Jesus was sent to us to be a light and to bring joy. The love of Jesus can make everything better. The world changed forever the night that Jesus was born. The world was full of darkness, but then the light of the world was born in a stable in Bethlehem. Advent is a time to get ready for that light to come. We have to wait for Christmas, because it's still over three weeks away! While we wait for Christmas, let's practice "putting on Jesus" so that we can bring light into the world, too. See if you can do something this week that makes you look like Jesus.
Prayer: Thank you, God, for sending your Son into the world. As we wait for Christmas, please help us learn what it means to be more like your Son. Amen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Immediate Word, December 2, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
Which Armor Will We Wear?
Paul Bresnahan
The church tells us to put on the armor of light now in the time of this mortal life. Frankly, it does not sound like a very substantial armor. Light cannot stop bullets or protect us from roadside bombs. If I were serving in Iraq right now, I'd want more than light to protect me. I'd want something more substantial. I'd want the latest and greatest in body armor and Humvees available. Give me the best the army has to offer before you send me out on patrol.
To tell you the truth, the armor of light doesn't sound all that resilient against the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" stateside either! When I think of the brutal realities of crime, unemployment, and health problems, I want a whole lot more than just "light" to help me out.
And when I think of the things my kids can get into the drugs, the sex, and the deadly chemistry of alcohol and fast cars, I find myself almost scoffing at the notion of the "light" being of any practical help when the proverbial "rubber hits the road."
Yet when we come toward the darkest time of the year the scripture points us in the direction of "The light." The church tells us to put on the armor of light now in the time of this mortal life. I wonder if we can find a convincing way to see how this "light" has any real substance to it? There must be something to it... we've been turning to the "light" for 2,000 years now. Thus on the first Sunday of Advent, let's light a candle and see just how much armor it really does provide.
THE WORLD
The world we live in is a very practical place. We want to see what we're getting. We want it to be palpable and substantial. We are a people who rightly asked what the proverbial "old lady" asked some years ago on the Wendy's commercial, "Where's the beef?"
We are almost slavishly practical, and we want to see the claims people make backed up by fact. We have all become folks from the "show me" state.
We are a nation that loves guns: the armor we seem to be enamored with these days. There are millions of them throughout our country, and if any politician has the temerity to raise a question as to the wisdom of allowing gun ownership to go unchecked, he/she does so at the risk of his/her own political life. I'm sure not going to question that!
The armor of God just doesn't sound very substantial in so many ways.
THE WORD
There is a vision in the Old Testament of a lion sharing its resting place with a lamb and other natural enemies being at peace with one another (Isaiah 11:6-9). The theme continues in today's lesson where God rises to judge between the nations and in response to that, humankind beats spears into pruning hooks and swords into plowshares. In a poetic prolepsis, the prophet then says that nations shall not know war anymore but shall walk in the light of the Lord. What a wish to be hoped for! We still seem a long way from that hope and if it is still part of our vision, then our eyes are sorely out of focus from what God is able to see. Still whenever we read this passage from scripture, it satisfies a deep longing within the human breast.
The epistle too advises us to lay aside the works of darkness and to put on the armor of light. The notion of "putting on the armor of light," while not ubiquitous in scripture, is still and all a powerful image. In Paul's letter to the Ephesians, he develops the idea by encouraging us to put on the whole armor of God. That armor includes fastening the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, for shoes put on the gospel of peace, wearing the helmet of salvation, and taking then the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. What is interesting about the struggle we're armed to contend with in this passage is that we are not given weapons to take on flesh and blood but the real enemies, which are the cosmic powers of this present darkness and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. It appears that within the human heart there is a battle of cosmic significance underway that we can easily miss if we are not aware of its tremendous power.
We are also told that the Son of Man will come at a time when we least expect him. I wonder if we are ready for that great moment. There is a petition in the Old Litany that many Anglicans say during Advent. It asks that we may be spared from dying suddenly and unprepared. Whether this passage is talking about Jesus coming to us at the end of time in any collective sense or just one by one, the same message is layered underneath the gospel proclamation. By casting off the works of darkness and by putting on the armor of light, we then find ourselves prepared to be as Jesus would have us be; his children bathed in the light of the gospel.
CRAFTING THE SERMON
It started the day after Thanksgiving right on cue. Target opened at 4 a.m. in our area. Wal-Mart is open 24/7, Sears and Circuit City have a sparkling and stunning array of specials to lure us in. Thus begins the great annual shopping frenzy of the Western world. The halls are abuzz with the subliminal messages of Christmas music, and we load up our shopping baskets with gifts that many of us really don't need. We may also purchase a little something for someone less fortunate. Then we exchange our gifts on Christmas Day often continuing the frenzy, we eat a very large meal and someone inevitably will say, "Well, that's Christmas for another year." Everyone will chuckle.
As January sets in, many of us will then begin a depression that holds us like ice throughout the rest of winter. Some will seek help from professionals and from the medicine cabinet. Too many will self-medicate.
This is darkness dear friends. It is the inevitable companion of a society that cannot order itself with a little discipline. Liturgical churches don't even play Christmas music until Christmas Eve. Irritated parishioners will complain about that. But for 2,000 years the church has taught that Advent is a time to put on the armor of light. We grasp instead at a quick dose of what will make us happy. But then as soon as we have it, it melts like snow in a clenched fist.
The light teaches us to treat Advent as a season of expectation and waiting, much like an expectant mother might await the birth of her child. Christmas teaches us to greet that child with such joy that it fills our days with the kind of happiness that builds within us as the child grows and learns wonderful new lessons. Epiphany teaches us to make manifest to the whole world that this child is the way to peace, justice, and hope.
This is quite a contrast to the narcissism of a self-indulgent holiday that just serves to depress us. What the church teaches is filled with great joy but not of a temporary tinsel type. This is the real thing! The church has a message that is true and abides and sustains a world that is always flirting with violence and bigotry and hatred. The Holy Child teaches us how to love God and how to love one another. Would that the world could hear the news and put on the armor of light!
In ancient times as now, there are armies all about. An occupation force held the holy land 2,000 years ago. An occupation force holds it now. It was then and is now a land where conflict is armed and human blood especially of the innocent sort too often flows in the stony streets.
It was into that land that a child came to learn the lessons of vulnerability. The child was wrapped in swaddling clothes we're told and a star bathed the child in light from the heavenly realms. So too, early Christians came to their worship on the first day of the week, early in the morning. It had to be very early because it was a workday then, and in some places when they entered the catacombs they put on white robes called Albs. The word "alb" was a Latin word that meant "white." The alb represented their baptism. It was a reminder that they were to "put on" Christ as they would a garment. The clergy wore something even a bit more elaborate and as they placed various articles of clothing, the people were mindful of the armor of God that they wore.
Whatever our liturgical preferences, every Christian is invited to put on the whole armor of God and to walk in the light of the Lord. People who walk in this light transform history. We have seen it time and again.
By walking in the light of the Lord, the early Christians not only survived the fall of the Roman Empire; they became the dominant force in Western culture. When the rest of Europe went dark during the ages that saw learning and culture itself become a shadow of what it once was, it fell to the Celtic monks of Ireland to light the way toward literature, creativity, and hope for a world that had all but lost hope. Then more recently in South Africa, the people sang their freedom songs, one of my favorite being "We are walking in the Light of God."
So what is this light? How much armor does it provide? If we follow the blessed apostle Paul in his teachings to the Christians in Ephesus, the teaching is simple, direct, and comprehensive. "Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God" (Ephesians 6:14-17).
Could it mean that the armor of God is so light a thing as truth, righteousness, the gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit that is the Word of God? If that is so, then the armament God encourages us to wear is the armament of the personhood of Christ himself. That means to say, that if we do "put on" Christ as we would a garment then we would indeed shine as would the light of God.
If we shine like God, there would indeed be peace and justice for all. Is this not only what we hope for as human beings? Is it not also the American credo? How then do we get so far away from being the very light that we were called to be in our biblical credo?
Perhaps we buy into our secular culture a bit too much. Perhaps we sometimes forget to love Advent as a season of expectation just as the church teaches us to do. If we were to do that, we could then burst into joy for the twelve days of Christmas, and then make the joy of Jesus manifest throughout the Epiphany season.
Are we too self-centered to be that sort of Christian, anymore? We never know when Jesus will come back. When he does, I hope that he will find the kind of faith on this earth that shines with the brightness of the armor of God. That armor we'll have to remember is not of the sort that can be manufactured in a munitions factory, but only in the heart and in the imagination of the child of God. We are preparing for the return of Jesus. Jesus is expecting us to be ready.
In this Advent season, we may wish to pray fervently for the wisdom to know what God wants us to wear to protect us from the cosmic powers. I suspect that the apostle Paul is absolutely right when he encourages us to put on the armor of light.
ANOTHER VIEW
Thom Shuman
So once again, we begin our dangerous journey toward Bethlehem. Dangerous, because we are asked to leave those comfortable shadows within which we live and embrace the light that is coming toward us. Dangerous, because we are challenged to quit indulging in all those lifelong habits of quarreling, jealousy, putting down those around us, and living in such a way that others know we respect them, honor them, and love them. Dangerous, because we are asked (no, implored) by God to take all those weapons of mass destruction -- our sharp tongues, our turned backs, our angry looks -- and turn them into whispers of grace, of open and welcoming arms, of smiles that light up all creation.
Besides this, we are asked to let go of our reliance on internet map programs and our car's direction finders, and to find alternative ways to get to Bethlehem. Oh, we could get to the mall with our eyes closed by now, but we are asked to turn in a different direction, and to go down unfamiliar streets, to be willing to get lost (and not worry about it!) as we look for the One who is coming to us. We have no trouble walking down the sidewalks of stress, but God illuminates that shortcut called serenity. We bump our way over the potholes of popularity, but God wants us to turn down the side streets of faithful discipleship, looking for those who are sitting along the curb, their pockets full of poverty and their hearts emptied of hope that we might give them a ride to the kingdom. We easily board the bus that will take us down to the business district with its bright lights flashing "Sale! Buy! Spend!" Yet God would take us by the hand to lead us to the soup kitchens, to the overflowing shelters, to the young couple looking for someone to open their doors, so the expectant woman might bear her child in peace and hope.
The prophet of Advent, Isaiah (2:1-5), tells us that in this season of commercials, consumerism, and consumer debt, God longs to teach us different ways, to instruct us with a word that can transform our very lives, which can give us the wisdom (and the courage) to walk the dangerous streets of the kingdom that will take us straight to Bethlehem.
ILLUSTRATIONS
In the midst of the difficult days in which we're living, we begin our Advent journey today. As we prepare for the coming of the Christ Child, we remember what the apostle Paul wrote to the people of Rome (from chapter 8 of the book of Romans in Eugene Peterson's The Message):
All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it's not only around us; it's within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We're also feeling the birth pangs.... That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don't see that it is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become and the more joyful our expectancy.
* * *
As we enter this Advent season, the days are becoming shorter and shorter, and therefore darker and darker, and we miss the light -- we long for the coming of the light. "It's always darkest before the dawn," the old saying reminds us, and so it is with our Advent journey -- and so it with our lives.
Barbara Jurgensen catches some of this in her poem, "The One Who Comes":
On the longest night
at the darkest hour
in the coldest part of the year...
To the lowliest barn
in the smallest town
in a land drawn tight in fear...
Came a tiny One
to a humble pair
who were far from all held dear...
On the longest night
at the darkest hour
in the coldest part of the year.
In the darkest hour
of the longest night
in the coldest part of our year...
When all hope has fled
and all light gone out
and our hearts are filled with fear...
Bringing hope and strength,
bringing purpose, life,
does the caring One appear...
In the darkest hour
of the longest night
in the coldest part of our year.
-- Barbara Jurgensen, Following You, p. 14
* * *
"Wake, awake, for night is flying,
The watchmen on the heights are crying;
Awake, Jerusalem, at last"
Philipp Nicolai's Advent hymn urges us.
Nicolai wrote this hymn during a very dark time, during the Black Plague in Europe in 1598, when not just thousands but millions around him were dying.
Expecting to die himself, Nicolai composed this majestic hymn and left a note with it saying that he wanted to leave it "as a token of my peaceful, joyful, Christian departure."
Fortunately, the plague passed him by and he lived another ten years. His hymn lives on today, reminding us that it's time to prepare ourselves to meet the Lord, not just for this Advent season but for our whole life.
* * *
There's no one who can say with absolute certainty what light really is. The physicists can describe light and its properties, they can predict its behavior, but its essential nature is still an unfathomable mystery. Yet, each one of us uses light every day, each time we click on an electric switch. We take light for granted.
Yet we all know, from experience, that light has certain useful properties.
It is constant; light can be counted on to do what we expect. The physicists teach that the speed of light is utterly invariable, unchanging, through all the universe.
Light is warm and heartening: the golden glow of a wood fire warms us on a cold day, in a way that has nothing to do with temperature.
We cannot see light itself, in all its purity; we only see it reflected on other things. Those who design lighting for homes and workplaces know the powerful effect of indirect light.
Light is death to darkness, as the author of the famous Psalm 139 confesses to God: ''even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.''
''God is light,'' says the first letter of John, ''and in him there is no darkness at all.''
***
In the lobby of the French cultural affairs office in New York, there is a statue. At first glance, it's a rather unimpressive work of art: a unfinished figure of Cupid, with lower legs missing, both forearms broken off, nose cracked. The statue had come with the Fifth-Avenue mansion when the French government bought it in 1952. The building's architect had picked it up somewhere in Italy, way back in 1905. He thought it was a Roman relic.
One evening in 1995, an art historian from the nearby Metropolitan Museum happened to be walking by, and glanced through the window. She had walked that sidewalk hundreds of times, without ever seeing the statue. That evening, though, was different: the embassy staff was preparing for a party. They had focused bright lights upon the statue of Cupid.
The art expert stopped and peered through the window. For the first time, she studied the little Cupid. Later she got in to see it, and ran her fingers along the chisel-marks in the marble, feeling there the trace of a master's hand. A short while later, she came out with an amazing claim: that this little Cupid is an original Michelangelo.
The art world, has come to recognize that she's probably right. It's not one of the Italian master's finest works: it seems he abandoned it after making a bad mistake in the carving. But, if the theory is correct, it is the only Michelangelo sculpture in all of North America. For more than a century, that little statue has stood in the lobby of that Fifth Avenue building. Yet it was only when the light shone upon it that its true importance was revealed.
That's the role Jesus sets out for us, as his disciples: to reflect back the light of God that shines upon us, so others may truly come to know us -- and, in knowing us, may know him, also.
***
Once there was a grandmother, struggling with a life-threatening illness, who had her little granddaughter with her, one Christmas. The granddaughter was watching her, as she lit a candle and placed it in the window. "Grandma," the little girl asked, "why do we light candles on Christmas?"
"We light candles on Christmas, my dear, to tell the darkness we beg to differ."
***
In a few short weeks, on Christmas Eve, we'll stand in this place holding lighted candles.
You don't have to look very far to find darkness today. Tonight, even here in our community, a child will go to bed hungry. Tonight, in our very town, another child will cry himself to sleep, because Daddy drinks too much, and Mama pays the price for his abuse.
The cells in the county jail will be dark tonight, as a guard throws a master switch. A harsh light bulb will blaze, outside in the corridor, but the warm glow of a candle is unknown in that grim place. Not far away, in a ''bad neighborhood,'' someone is out cruising the streets in a car without headlights, looking for a shadowy figure to sell him a vial of crack.
Darkness never sleeps. It's always open for business. Darkness entices its victims in, with whispers of illicit pleasure, then springs the trap. Darkness has swallowed up many lives, devoured them whole.
Come Christmas Eve, our feeble candle-flames will make no impression on that darkness. Candles don't shed a lot of light, really -- just think back to your last power failure at home. Maybe you had to go rummaging around in the kitchen drawer, until you found that old candle stub, and struck the match -- then you breathed a sigh of relief, even as you inhaled that sulfurous match-odor. Maybe you even sat there and stared at the glowing flame for a moment or two, just to reassure yourself: the darkness was held at bay.
In a power failure, you discover just how many candles you need, to make up for one darkened light bulb -- and that's indoors. Carry your candle outside at night, and hold it up to the starry heavens: you'll discover how utterly insignificant that light seems, how effectively it is swallowed up by darkness.
Yet, still we do it. Still, we light the candles....
***
There's something in each of us that loves darkness more than light. Sin draws us on, entices us into exploring the dark places: within our world, within our very souls. The poet John Milton was very aware of this dark side of our character, and writing about it in these words:
He that has light within his own cleer breast
May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day:
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun;
Himself is his own dungeon.
[''A Mask Presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634,'' lines 380ñ84, The Works of John Milton, vol. 1, part 1, p. 99 (1931).]
At times, we are indeed our own dungeons. Our desires imprison us -- desires for pleasure at any cost, for wealth, for fame, for things to which we are addicted. Outside is the bright midday sun of God's love, but we choose so often to live in the murky gloom of a dungeon cell. It is a cell of our own making. The prison is not locked; it's our choice not to get up, open the door and ascend the stairs into brilliant light.
***
Many are familiar with the well-loved Irish hymn, ''Be Thou My Vision.'' Not so well-known is this stanza from the hymn, which is omitted from many hymnals. It is reminiscent of the famed Celtic Christian poem, ''St. Patrick's Breastplate,'' and also of the round towers that provided refuge to Irish monks at the time of the Viking invasions. The hymn stanza goes like this:
Be Thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight;
Be Thou my armor, and be Thou my might;
Thou my soul's shelter, Thou my high tower;
Raise Thou me heavenward, O power of my power.
WORSHIP RESOURCE
Thom Shuman
Call to Worship
Leader: We don't always know
what time it is,
People: but according to Jesus,
it is time to watch.
Leader: We're not always sure
what we should wear,
People: but according to the Spirit,
we should wear garments of Light.
Leader: We're not always sure
what we should do,
People: But according to God,
we should always seek good
for those around us.
Prayer of the Day
Architect of the kingdom's streets:
you teach us all
we need to know,
if we will but open our hearts,
and listen to yours.
You challenge us
to quit working the night shift
in sin's sweat shops,
and to dance in the light
of Advent joy.
Seeker of our good:
you sneak in
and steal our lives
out of death's tight grasp.
You wander the streets
of our world,
sweeping up our sins,
casting them into
the dustbins of our past.
Holy Spirit,
you are as close to us
as the breath in our lungs:
helping us to treat everyone
with honor and respect;
healing us with serenity
in these days of stress;
taking us by the hand
to walk us home
to the kingdom.
God in Community, Holy in One,
help us to be faithful watchers,
as we pray as Jesus has taught us, saying,
Our Father...
Call to Reconciliation
We don't know when Jesus will return, and
we are not to worry about it. But we do know
when we do wrong, when we hurt people, when
we disappoint God. But God will change our
sins into acts of mercy, and our failures into
faith. Join me as we pray to our God.
Unison Prayer of Confession
In this season of sales, shopping, and stress, God
of Light, we confess how easy it is to slip off your
paths. We can become so focused on having good
times, we forget to take the time to do good for
your people. We slip easily into Santa suits, but
find Jesus Christ an uncomfortable fit for our lives.
We find ourselves strangely jealous over the gifts
others receive, yet have trouble accepting those
gifts of peace and serenity you hand out so freely.
Forgive us, Breath of Salvation. By your mercy,
we can once again walk the streets of your kingdom,
being alert for the signs of your grace and hope in
our midst. Teach us your ways of peace and
reconciliation, that we may truly live as the disciples
of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
(silence is kept)
Assurance of Pardon
Leader: This is the good news: you will be swept away
in the waters of mercy, salvation carrying you
home to God's heart.
People: Peace, serenity, healing, hope - these gifts, and
more, are ours in this Advent season of watching
and waiting. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Great Prayer of Thanksgiving
Leader: May the Lord of Advent be with you.
People: And also with you.
Leader: People of God, lift up your waiting hearts.
People: We lift them to the One
whose heart longs for us.
Leader: People of God, give thanks to the One
who draws near to us.
People: Let us go to God's Table
to offer our thanks and praise.
It is always good and right
to stand in your house of peace
with thanksgiving on our lips,
Holy God.
When chaos threatened to rule,
you raised up creation,
validating it with your Word.
Standing within the gates of Eden,
we were bound firmly together with you,
your love and grace as close
as the breath of the Spirit.
If we had known that sin and death
would come to steal us away from you,
we could have been prepared.
But they swept us away
in the flood of their temptations,
and we didn't know how to resist.
Your prophets were sent forth
to teach us your ways,
but we clung to the fading shadows
of our rebellious lives.
Finally, you sent Jesus to remind us
that it was time to become
your children once again.
Therefore, we come to you,
our songs of thanksgiving
and our prayers for peace
mingling with those of every time and place,:
Sanctus
Holy are you, God who comes to us,
and blessed is Jesus Christ, your Son, our Salvation.
When we seek evil
for those around us,
he takes the time
to teach us to do good.
When we went as far away
from you as we could,
he came to bring redemption
close to our hearts.
When we did not realize
how sin and death
were coming to rob us
of our relationship with you,
he knew it was time
to go to the cross,
to place our feet back on
the streets of the kingdom.
As we remember Immanuel coming to us,
we would keep awake, preparing ourselves
to live out that mystery we call faith:
Memorial Acclamation
In this time of anticipation,
send your Spirit upon the gifts
of the bread and of the cup,
and on those who gather
around the Table of Joy.
Besides this, send your gifts
when we least expect them:
the gift of peace,
that we might turn Humvees
into harvesters of reconciliation;
the gift of hope,
that we might transform weapons
into harps and guitars;
the gift of time,
that we might be prepared
to serve all who come to us
in their brokenness and despair.
Then, when that day and hour come,
and we are gathered with
our sisters and our brothers,
our enemies and our friends,
around the Feast in Heaven,
we will be bound firmly together
for all eternity with you,
walking in your Light,
as we sing forever of
God in Community, Holy in One. Amen.
CHILDREN'S SERMON
Put on your Sunday best
Object: wear really nice clothing for your teaching time
Romans 13:11-14
Have you ever heard the expression that you should wear your "Sunday best"? It used to be that people would save the best clothes they owned for the days they went to church. On the other days of the week, they would wear their regular clothes, but on Sunday they would wear the best they had. Today I'm wearing nice clothes for church. I wanted to dress up, because I wanted you to see what I look like when I'm wearing my Sunday best.
In this morning's lesson, the apostle Paul tells us that the world can be a sad and dark place. It is full of sadness, pain, anger, jealousy, and hatred. Paul tells us that you and I can help share the light and love of Jesus with people. In one verse, he says that we should "put on the Lord Jesus Christ." I wondered what that meant, but then I thought about what it means to put on my Sunday best. I can "put on Jesus" by acting as Jesus did and by loving people in the way he did.
Today is the first Sunday of Advent. It's December again, and it's time to prepare for the baby Jesus to be born. God knew the people of the world needed love, so Jesus was sent to us to be a light and to bring joy. The love of Jesus can make everything better. The world changed forever the night that Jesus was born. The world was full of darkness, but then the light of the world was born in a stable in Bethlehem. Advent is a time to get ready for that light to come. We have to wait for Christmas, because it's still over three weeks away! While we wait for Christmas, let's practice "putting on Jesus" so that we can bring light into the world, too. See if you can do something this week that makes you look like Jesus.
Prayer: Thank you, God, for sending your Son into the world. As we wait for Christmas, please help us learn what it means to be more like your Son. Amen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Immediate Word, December 2, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
